Indecent Proposal
by Miss Nae Malfoy
Summary: Isabella Swan lived a normal life, but when she agrees to move in with Alice Montebello's family across the country in Staten Island, things immediately begin to change. Suddenly, she is surrounded with enough money to feed the poor and enough popularity to kill all of her high school nightmares. Only problem? The Montebellos are pure mafia, and Emmett has claimed her for keeps.
1. Overflow

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Twilight, the series, or anything affiliated. It all belongs to Stephanie Meyer. **

**A/N: You guessed it, ANOTHER mafia creation from Miss Nae Malfoy! The name is Montebello (oh, I just love that surname!) in this fic. "Cullen" and "Masen" just weren't Italian enough for my liking. **

His blue eyes connected with mine from across the room, but it wasn't in my heart to make any sort of intimate gesture to a man like him. I was, after all, a guest in the city that he owned, and I was nothing more than a stranger to him. "Are you ready for tonight, Bella?" Alice nudged me with her small, bony elbow as she helped fill a tray of tall shot glasses with expensive white tequila. That was the table, table 10, that the Montebellos used when not in private rooms; I liked it better when they used the back rooms, at least I wouldn't have to see them as often and pretend to interact civilly. Alice Montebello was the owner's precious Italian-American daughter, and for what reason she deemed we were twins, she dragged me with her to Staten Island, in a small city where she grew up most of her life. We studied together at University of Washington, clear across the country, and after realizing that my best friend lived a pretty lavish lifestyle, I accepted her offered plane ticket to New York. My dad was angry and nervous about such a big move, but I promised him frequent calls during the week and letters when I could. My mom was mostly numb to the world and the decisions I made in life, but she agreed with her Chief of Police husband just this once. Of all the things they would actually agree on!

"Table 12." Our manager, Garrett Trevino, was rumored to be kept here by a very bad secret and blood debt he owed to the Montebellos, but he seemed happy in the most part. Weren't caged birds unhappy creatures? Perhaps they were just rumors and nothing else? I nodded to her and pranced to said table, where guys like Lucas, Seth, and Luigi were seated. Two newer guys flanked some seats, but I didn't pay them any special attention. These Staten Island guys took the slightest look as a viperous outcry for sex, I learned _very _early on. "You know why I love this place so much?" Lucas began, and even if he shared the other men's wrinkles and peppered hair, he was the kindest. Seth was always showing off his gun and holster, and Luigi only spoke in Italian in front of me. When Alice first offered to put me up at her family's large estate and even went as far as setting up my first job in New York as a waitress for her family's Italian restaurant, I was appalled and felt that there was going to be a catch. Who was that nice, without wanting anything in return? The worst part of her deal was her demand that we shop every day we get off and to stay on top of our spa treatments before and after shifts. How was that a downside to complain about?

"Why is that?" I smiled prettily as I passed out the clear liquid spirits to the three men at the table. In the last seven days, I began to wonder why Alice even worked here. Her parents owned the joint, and it wasn't like she would ever need to work a day in her life.

"Because there are beautiful women, with light brown hair and crystal clear eyes, here waiting on me. That's a good feeling." A soft chuckled left my lips and I asked for any last calls before walking back to my station. There were always menus to give, orders to write down and pass onto the chef, Sam, and messes to clean- and this was my very first witnessing job. Before this, I worked in a pet shop through high school and then went onto assisting some big shot's secretary at a firm in Seattle. I was used to dressing classy and sitting at a small desk waiting for routine instruction, but here I was up moving constantly and conversating with everyone I met. High heels were out of the question and the plain jane black dress with/without panty hose was uniform. I wore different jewelry and tried different shades and colors of makeup to make it more interesting, and even went as far as coloring my hair a few shades lighter to catch the appeal in New York.

The night waned on quickly, but by the end of my shift, I was like a loose pile of jelly. My conservative plain black shoes and my loose bun made matters worse, so I took them off and unpinned my hair before sitting down with my receipts. It was funny, when I majored in Linguistics and Behavioral Development, I never saw myself being twenty-two and in a big city restaurant. I figured I'd be on my own in a small Washington town, working with the government to help kinds in need, or working for some big company and translating for Chinese business partners. Witnessing wasn't anything like I saw in movies- on a bad night, ass-grabbers were down to two guys a shift, and the tips I made… were large and definitely worth my time. If I smiled a lot and complimented more, I could see multiple twenties and maybe even a fifty dollar bill. What kind of translator ever got tipped for doing a good job, hmm?

"Hey, Mama's making a mean Calzone tonight. Are you catching a ride with me or what?" I had never seen so many Italians before New York, but I enjoyed the culture immensely. Alice's family was loud and exuberant, and made every word they spoke count, and most of them accepted me with open . I shook my head.

"Garrett wants to review my receipts for the next few days." I said, feeling that prickly sensation run up my spine again. Alice didn't trust him all that much, but she knew she had nothing to worry about. She was a Montebello, nothing touched her.

"Is there an inconsistency with the numbers? Service hasn't been slow whatsoever." Her tone was a little bristled, probably because she was too curious for her own good.

I shook my head. "No, he just says that he doesn't trust me. I don't blame him, it's a lot of money." Things like these I shrugged off, only because I didn't need the negative energy to affected the great life I was preparing for myself. Alice and I shared the ten to six0thirty shift together, and boy did I love Esme Montebello's saucy dinners. She was half-Italian, half-Irish, but she only knew her father's language and his family traditions, while her Irish mother wasn't around to teach her anything of Ireland. Carlisle Montebello was something else; he spent a lot of time at the restaurant, wooing clients and eating Rizzoli. He was loud and liked to laugh a lot, but I didn't mind. It was better than my quiet dad, who never shared his childhood stories or moved me with life lessons he pursued in adulthood like Mr. Montebello did.

"How long does he plan on taking? We still need to drop by Dillard's for those purple dresses." I nodded and tried to get a peek at where he was; there was a main floor with twenty-five table clothed seating areas, the front patio housed twelve more iron-rod tables, and the three private rooms were conjoined, and could be separated by French shutters.

"I'll meet you there. He cant take that long." I smiled and waved her off before the green giant came and ruined the rest of my day. I lived rent-free at Montebello Manor, so my first pay check was going straight to my savings- once I had enough, I would buy my own car and perhaps new wardrobe? And then I would start looking for another place to live, a place on my own. What Alice and her family gave me was very thoughtful, but I didn't plan on depending on them for my living and career for the rest of my life. I was a Swan, I could make a dime into fifty cents. "I've counted the money to the last penny, and all of the receipts are right here." His beady black eyes roamed over everything, while he shifted articles around passed me hard glares. "What?" I asked innocently. I didn't like the way he seemed to hate me for no goddamn reason! It was upsetting.

"I don't like you, never have and never will. You're just this prissy little white girl from a city no one's ever even heard about. If I owned this place, I would have never let a _cagna bianca_ into a pureblooded _Italiano _shop!" His angry hand swiped at the table and knocked everything onto the floor. I pretended not to know what he was saying in Italian, since it wasn't common knowledge that I was fluent in five different languages. I guess every other employee was Italian, or had very strong bloodlines to work here. wasn't that a hate crime to deny someone a job because of their ethnicity, or skin color? Dimes and quarters sounded as they rolled under tables and the receipts scattered everywhere. "Pick it up, Isabella, what the fuck are you looking at?" I blinked a few times to dispel myself of the oncoming headache. Why was he talking to me like this? I never cussed in front of him! "Pick the fucking money up, you stupid slut. Why the fuck are you just staring at me? Do it!" Some sentences were calm, some were filled with unaided anger. I could feel Jessica Stanley's and Tanya Denali's eyes burning holes in my back, and I could just see the pity on their faces. They were both sweet girls, but probably wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire in fear that they'd be held responsible for it.

With a forceful hand, he shoved me into a table and I wobbled dangerously. "Alright, alright! I'll do it, stop treating me like you're my pimp!" I muttered before bending down on my knees and collected the loose papers.

"That's right, Isabella, down on your knees." He called before walking off and sharing a loud greeting with one of his regular customers. There weren't many people around, as we were closed for personal hours and wouldn't be open until eight-thirty again, but some of the other workers most definitely heard and were probably feigning empathy for me at the moment. Alice was always telling me about this white knight of hers, and how he was going to come in and save her one day. Why would anyone with her fabulous lifestyle need to be saved? I finished reorganizing everything and locked it in the company's wall safe before changing into jeans and a cardigan for the cold weather. I stepped out into the dark evening; wasn't New York supposed to be good weather and tantalizing landscape? But the sun went down so early, and it was still summer! Sure, city lights and car sounds kept the city alive all times of day and night, but it just wasn't the same as the sun and all of it's natural appeal.

I wished I had packed smarter when I left my life in Washington, but I left all of my heavier clothing at my parents' house and figure they'd give it to Goodwill or something sooner or later. Mm mom hated junk, anyway. I hailed a cab and gave him the directions to the Dillard's Alice was already at; I couldn't take cabdrivers to the Montebello Estate- hell, I was barely let in most times. Alice didn't like driving, so I was usually the one that drove around her silver Prius, and the guards didn't like that very much. She was the local celebrity at Dillard's, so we were served champagne and seated in a private room while floor employees brought dozens of purple dresses to us for inspection. I liked dresses, but these weren't the ones I was used to. They were silk, chiffon, Egyptian cotton- they were more expensive than my only pair of Louboutins I bought when I got my first paycheck ever; I treasured those things with my life, but never got enough courage to buy another pair of five hundred dollar shoes again. I crinkled my nose at a dark purple number Alice held up to her body for inspection in front of the long mirror.

"You're going to look like a plum!" I exclaimed with a few girly giggles of my own. She made everything so carefree and playful with me, it was hard to take life serious when around her. In her own words, we were instant friends our freshmen year of college, but it was more like I was dragged around at her whim and after time, I grew to enjoy her company. People got a kick out of our friendship story, and sometimes even I had to take a break and glance over how far we came. If we had never met in Biology II, and if Mr. Duboiur had never paired us up in French Literature, where would I be? Certainly not in a three story retail store sipping on champagne and only worrying about the color coordinating dresses we were going to wear for the upcoming Gala held at Montebello Italian Cuisine. "Oh, this one!" I muttered after my second glass was empty; I held out the lavender razorback tunic to her, and her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

"So cute!" Her high-pitched voice soothed me on my worst days. She fingered through a rack of more gowns and pulled out one with a small gold trim; when she finally fought me into the scrap of material, I wrapped my hands around my middle protectively. I wasn't as skinny as Alice, she had to know that showing the sides of my hips wasn't as complimenting as it would have been for her. She barged in my dressing room without knocking and let her eyes visibly widen before me. "Bella, this is gorgeous! Please pick this one, I love it! Oh, please, you look so good in it!" She shoved my hands from their places and made me look at myself fully. The two shapes cut out on both sides of my waist made the dress look symmetrical, and the mid-thigh was pushing it for me, as I wasn't a huge fan of my thighs.

I did love my body, I worked kinda hard for it after all, but I didn't like flaunting it so easily. I liked keeping some mystery, and this piece wasn't going to leave that much to the imagination. "I don't know, Alice, it's kind of… racy." I wasn't seventeen anymore, I knew that, but I was trying to make a good impression with her family. Her older brother was constantly vying for my attention as it was, would I like to give him the incentive of ogling my body in this dress? I blushed at the thought. Emmett Montebello was very sexy in his own right, seeing as he was over six feet tall and his chest and biceps were always begging to burst from his button-up business top. Did I like the fact that his clothes were always expensive and tucked in? Yes, but I hated that I understood the type of business he dabbled in.

"Jesus Christ, Bella! It's totally cute and we aren't leaving until you let me buy it for you!" I shook my head and fingered the triangular shape that was cut out over my collarbone and part of my cleavage. The tight fabric spanned thinly over my shoulders and wrapped right above a quarter-sleeve cut, leaving little room for breathing and mobility. What if Garrett ordered to wait tables and serve platters during the night? I would be royally screwed.

"Miss Montebello, Miss Swan." A suited security guard stepped into the room, and before Alice could throw her shoe at him for not first knocking, he covered his eyes and tipped his head another direction. "You will both be escorted out of the building immediately, there has been a breach of security. Gather your belongings immediately." We were both still in our dresses, and when I voiced our dilemma, he opened his eyes and sent me a cold, hard look. "That does not matter. The garments will be charged to Mr. Montebello's account. Let us leave." We snatched out purses and shoes before following him out of the open door. Two dark coats were thrown over our frames and I felt two strong arms envelope us, correctly smashing us together, as we blindly traveled out of the back door. We were hurled into an awaiting car and only when our initial fear off, we swam out of the mass of cloth.


	2. What The Water Gave Me

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Twilight, the series, or anything affiliated. It all belongs to Stephanie Meyer. **

**ARTIST OF THE WEEK- Florence and the Machine. The song I used is called "What the Water Gave Me."**

"I understand how one would be startled din this position, Miss Isabella," Miriam began sweetly, even if she was a seven foot woman with too many body moles to count, "but your safety was compromised and measures had to be taken. Do you understand this?" I nodded quickly before glancing over at Alice, whom was roving casually through her cell phone. How was she so calm and collected at a time like this? My heart was still racing like a hummingbird's wing. We were just smothered and smuggled into an alley, where an awaiting Escalade picked us up and drove off with us! How was this normal at all?

"Alice, whets wrong with you?" I exclaimed loudly, feeling on of those "I can't breath" episodes coming on.

He blue eyes almost looked bored. "I know, I should be angrier that our evening shopping was interrupted, but these things tend to-"

"No, Alice, you should be worried that a threat was made on your life and we had to be smuggled out of a store in broad daylight." I pounded a hard fist on my bare knee in a gesture to what I meant. Who gave a damn about retail therapy when it came to your own life?

She rolled her eyes and let loose a mocking chuckle. "Really, Bella, you'll get used to it. Sometimes its not even a threat on my life directly- if a person is caught shoplifting, or a mysterious man reaches for an inner pocket, or even a lunatic heaving his hands about crazily sets off my security team. They're extra precautious, for my own good, but these emergencies tend to fall into routine for me. Most of the time, I choose widely where I spend my time so that this does not happen." Alice sent a mean glare down at her dress. "I don't really like this dress."

I blew out a soft sigh and threw my head back on the leather seat. "You can always return it, Alice, its no big deal." I pointed out.

She scoffed. "My father would never allow me. I must keep it on my closet, or pass it down to a less fortunate cousin of mine. Sure, it's a little wasteful, but the press would have a field day with my father if they witnessed me returning an item to a store. They'll make up these wild rumors about money problems and bankruptcy and what it means for the restaurant. My mother made that mistake once, when I was a few years old, and it took days to convince the press that our restaurant was in fine shape as well as our fortune. Four nights straight of parties and gatherings at our Estate, and all of the finest wine we could order from our connections at vineyards within the short notice and space my parents had to work with." I nodded in understanding. I wasn't used to being politically right with society- sure, my dad was a conservative Republican voter every four years at the presidential election, and my mom was Green Party before it was cool, but I never followed what went one way or the other. I wasn't used to people's eyes being on me at all times.

"Where are we going?" I inquired quietly, hoping that the unbowed woman in the passenger seat wasn't listening. She intimidated me, but who didn't Miriam startle?

"My brother's house. There's this safety precaution they perform when these things happen. We're escorted out through backdoor exits, chauffeured to my brother's house in Manhattan, or my private loft in Brooklyn. My parents' house and the restaurant is too risky, as they say, so we try to stay away from them if even a hint of danger drifts our way." What did all of that mean for me? Why were there plans to be executed like this?

"Alice, why is there such a price on your head? I get that your family is pretty wealthy and all, but what is it that you're not telling me in all of this? Obviously, you're targeted a little more often than the average heiress with massive security and top notch protection." It was true- Alice was never so paranoid and less chill then when we crossed the bridge to Staten Island everyday for work. It was like an ice cold shiver ran up her spine.

"New York is dangerous, alright? I haven't taken you into NYC yet, you'll freak when you see all of the crazy lights and jumbled sidewalks. This place is a madman's town sometimes, Bella, and with the kind of money we're walking around with, its very dangerous." I almost corrected her- the money _you're _walking about with, Alice! I carried a few dollars in cash and left the rest on my card, which wasn't even really that much, anyway. "Promise me that you aren't going to go running back to the West Coast because of a few security levels?" Her soft face wrinkled with worry that New York had sacred me off already.

Well, I wasn't spooked so easily. "No, Alice, I like it here. And I'd rather be treated like the president escaping through the kitchens than the helpless girl exposed to nasty criminals with no defense at all." Alice rolled her eyes- ever since we sat down and watched "Single White Female", I was constantly weary about parking lots and guys in either leather jackets or overcoats made of anything but cotton. "How long of a drive is it from here to Manhattan?"

Alice tossed her head back and forth in consideration. "If traffic is good and Tino doesn't drive _like a slow poke_," she raised her voice to get the driver's attention, but the old balding man only smiled, "then forty or so minutes. Sometimes an hour, all depends." I nodded. Seattle was pretty congested, too, but the city never was crowded and thre buildings didn't look smashed together like New York cities did. "We arent going to my loft, seeing as my air conditioner and heater system are under construction right now. My brother's place is the safest spot."

And it was beautiful. I felt like I was walking into a dream when the car pulled into a private mechanical gate and maneuvered around the pebble stone loop before parking in front of a four car garage. My eyes were nearly bleeding by the time I took in everything- from the upside down pillars supporting the awning-type roof in the front of the house (the Romans believed they were good luck when upside down) to the sensitive gargoyles on the roof and right beside the door of the two story house, I awestruck. I heard the electronic gate slide and lock again behind us as I was helped out of the tall car by the manly woman (or womanly man?). I turned around and noticed a tower of sorts posted at the main gate. Was that the security post, high up in the air like that? Once again, I sent a look to Alice and pushed for more information, but she shook her head and led me through the backdoor and into the house.

We walked straight through the kitchens; it was almost the size of the restaurant's kitchen, but with less accessories. There were a few stoves, ovens, and dishwashers along with two separate ceiling pan-holders; every countertop was marble, and the floor was clean and polished. I couldn't help but feel like this was starlight billionaire stuff. "Whoa, dude, your brother is loaded." She showed me pictures of her loft when we were still in Seattle, and it was nice (and quirky as she was, with different colored walls in every room and Beatles posters/memorabilia everywhere), but her brother definitely took the cake on personal living. Mr. and Mrs. Montebello's Manor was close to four stories, with vaulted ceilings and acres of land for a large estate, but they were the eldest and inherited that home from the generation before. She guided me through different hallways, which were carpeted and had basic decorations for a single man's coziness.

Colors were neutral and kept light in the house, but it was the three living room's that did me in. "Three living rooms, really?" it was funny- I always teased Alice that when I owned my dream house, I would have a different living room for every want; sports, theatre, chick flick night. She gave me a tour around the foyer, where the ground was marble, and gestured to a tall staircase that had two different sides to ascend or descend. "To the left hall is the library, a few guestrooms my parents and I use when we visit, and the staircase to the rooftop garden." I giggled, what was someone like her big, burly brother doing with a garden on the roof? "To the right is the master bedroom, a few spare rooms for all of his stuff, and his study."

"He has a _study_? I emphasized the last word.

"He has a study!" She nodded quickly. A study? Wow, I had never been in a house with a private office before. "And there's a billiard's room through here." Alice pointed to the archway underneath the high stairs. "That's the entertainment section of the house." I was literally walking on a cloud when she showed me said room and the main dining room, which had a connecting hallway to the kitchen. I ran a hand over the wall portraits of his family and landscapes I couldn't recognize, and the crystal glass table with already set porcelain plates and wineglasses made this feel all too fake for my liking.

"This is real?" I had to ask. Why did this feel like a dream come true to me? I tried to snap out of it, but it was so hard. I fell in love, and there was no turning back. "This place is just too amazing." A lot of it seemed to be fabricated from my own dreams and fantasies, but I pushed the thought away. This a stranger's house, and the only connection we had was good taste. Alice shrugged like it was nothing. There's a gym and a dayroom upstairs, too- I use the dayroom to paint sometimes. But other than that, I'm not here that often." I had to wonder why; all of the right places were carpeted or tiled, entertainment was complete in this house, and the hallways were expansive with high ceilings. Nothing about this was place was fast track New York style. "He lives kind of far from where we work and stay. Its just not logical to come during the week. But weekends are always fun. He had this penthouse suit in Le Pierre before this house, and I loved that location! Indoor swimming pool, Bella. Does life get any better than that?"

I rolled my eyes at her. "Um, rooftop garden? An open dayroom to paint all day? A private gym inside of your house? A kitchen large enough to open up for your own restaurant? Need I go on?" And she shrugged again. "How is this kind of money casual to you?" I trailed her to a large bay window in the spaced-out foyer, close to the front door.

"Because, Bella, we own this town." She was looking out at Manhattan from the top of the hill that the house sat on. Even if it wasn't on the coast like Montebello Manor, I was still mesmerized. Who knew cockroach New York had a spot of serenity Alice's brother found here? "It's ours for the taking, wherever we decide to plant our feet, whenever we feel is the right time. All of it is a matter of how we want it, and that's not always a good thing." Did she hear herself speak? She was sounding like a dictator. "Sometimes I have so much at my fingertips that I don't want any of it at all. Any school on the East Coast; from Cornell to Cambria, I could have screwed classes over and lived carefree because of my name and what grandfather did to deserve our century-old respect."

"So you flew all the way out to Washington to get away from luxury?" It was almost unbelievable how good-hearted her story was. When we first met, I had no idea her hippie and indie clothing was top of the line, or that she stayed in an expensive suite before going halfers with me on rent in our two bedroom apartment. I knew none of it until we actually began explaining our lives and childhood through the years. Yeah, sometimes I questioned her expensive gifts for holidays and birthdays, but she always wrote it off as "blowout sales" and "deals", and it wasn't until a private car picked us up from JFK airport and dropped us off at her family's manor that I truly understood how good the Montebello's had it.

"Basically." She toyed with an ancient looking globe. "And because I am avid fan of Sleepless in Seattle." we laughed easily. Of course, that was a story Alice enjoyed telling immensely.

"Miss Montebello, they have given me the all clear, you are free to leave. Your bother has given me direct orders to see to it that you take his silver Lexus. Here are the keys." Alice took them without another thought and motioned for me to follow her through the hallway and into the garage, where four impressive cars sat. My eyes were glued to the big, white and black Range Rover towards the end of the row. Could we take that car instead?

'_Cause she's a cruel mistress,_

_And a bargain must be made-_

_But oh, my love, don't forget me._

_I let the water take me."_


	3. Please Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood

Mr. and Mrs. Malloriano smiled and laughed at my jabs at the latest Jet's game, seeing as her younger husband was a big time investor with the New York Jets. "Have a good night!" I called to them as they waved me off and i began assisting another couple; Montebello Cuisine saw only one major walk of life- high class, white collared Italians. I began noticing patterns here and there- clients that were of another race were usually in conference with Mr. Montebello himself, or were given special usage of the private rooms. Why was that, I had to wonder. Once in awhile, middle class New Yorkers or the odd tourist group came through, but it was as common as a sunny day here. There was another thing I was exposed to- weapons, people were always strapped with weapons. I hated seeing them outside of their jackets or carelessly dangling on their belt. "Will it be the usual White Zinfandel and rib eye for you, Mrs. Abbezatto?"

The plump Italian woman chuckled and slapped her zebra-printed, snake skin purse. I began to fall in love with this restaurant; most customers were regulars, Garrett eased up some and hadn't laid a finger on me in three weeks, and I bought some low-cut boots that made eight hours feel like a breeze. Not to mention the fast accumulating tips- at first, it was a surprise twenty or fifty at the end of the night. Now, I was going home daily with hundreds. "No, _nipote_, I'm on a very strict diet." Her sausage fingers roamed over different salad & soup options. We served salads? Funny, no one ever ordered it. I got used to her calling me "nipote", which meant niece.

"_Si_, she is on a "see-food" diet." Elderly Mr. Abbezatto used both of his index and middle fingers to make air quotations. While I wasn't PETA by any means, I hated restocking the crab and lobster tank, and when customers ordered our Crab House Special or buttered lobster plate, in my mind I would still see them _clicking _and _clacking _away to freedom. _Mrs. Abbezatto, please don't order from our seafood section! _"She eats all of the _food _she _sees_!" His lame jest made me laugh along with them; the pair were a favorite of mine. At seventy-two, they had been married for the last fifty-eight years and could still make one another blush and laugh. His wife began making rude comments to him in Italian, probably to spare my American ears, but since I was still playing dumb about being the _gueda_, I pretended to not to understand what she was saying.

"Watch out, Mr. Abbezatto, she'll have your head!" I added to calm the comedic storm of insults he insinuated. She fiddled through the five page menu once more but I took pity. "How about I tell the chef to hold the high-cholesterol margarine cook his leanest cut for you? That way you can start that boring diet tomorrow?" Mrs. Abbezatto reminded me that I was her favorite girl before handing me the menu back and ordering a cup of black coffee and a chicken piece for her husband. She pulled money from her small, snap-lock money purse and shoved it in my empty hand lovingly. "Thanks, I'll bring that steak out as soon as I can!"

Chef Sam didn't believe in cooking anything without high cholesterol butter and animal fat- also, he refused to prepare any other dessert than Tiramisu, but that all these Italian-Americans ordered here. I personally loved the gelato Vanilla Bean that was shipped from Athenos. I set the order for him and served a few single men when Alice rushed towards me and pulled me away. I was startled, but tried to laugh it off as to not stir up Luigi or Lucas. "Whoa, Alice, you just interrupted Luigi's Italian-American version of Scarface-" Luigi always thought he was Scarface when he had one too many shots of clear tequila, but it was quite comedic when it he didn't take it too far.

"Give Luigi the spaghetti and then follow me." She whispered under her breath before returning to the awaiting men. "Good evening, fellas. Is Bella treating you right?" Alice was the lovable, young Montebello daughter that most of these men watched grow up from infancy. What girl wouldn't want to be the Italian Princess of Staten Island, NY?

"Ah, this girl?" Lucas laughed and set his hand on his hip, pushing back his eighties-looking leather vest. "This is a wise girl in the making, I can see it." Alice laughed with the rest of the table; what was that supposed to mean? I never disrespected those guys with wise cracks! They were the closest companions of Mr. Montebello himself!

"Keep that to yourself, Lucas, she's a straight arrow! If there's anything you need, ask anyone and they'll be happy to serve you men." Alice beamed up at them and yanked me by the arm towards the private rooms. When I first started here, Jessica Stanley warned me about the "crazy, really secret" stuff that went on behind the closed door of the private area, but she couldn't exactly explain what went on without acting strange. But Alice reassured me that the girls just couldn't handle the touchy-feely men, and that's why they steered clear of that place. Was that completely true? Jessica enjoyed men ogling her and making advances at her. If it was a free for all in the back, why was she so against it?

Some things worked like clockwork here, and other parts of Montebello Cuisine just didn't make any sense. "Shut the fucking door!" Garrett screamed at me from across the room, and I did as he said without question. Alice held onto my arm protectively and sent him a hard look that said, "shut the fuck up". "Alice says you know to speak France, is that right?" His tone was definitely more civil, but there was definitely an edge to it. His words jumbled after that, seeing as there was a squirming, skinny man tied to a wooden chair in the corner of the room. There was a potato sack over his head, but there had to be something other than that constructing his breathing, seeing as his screams were muffled to quiet moans. "Look at me!" Garrett snapped. My eyes flew back to his mushy green ones. "You speak that fucking language, don't you?"

I resisted an eye roll. Did I speak France? I wanted to shout, "it's French, you dumbfuck", but resisted. First of all, I didn't talk like that, it was just my fear and frustration thinking. Secondly, he looked maniacal right about now. "Yes, I- I speak French." There were a few other men in the room, along with Alice, but it seemed all-consuming to me. When I was younger, I had minor panic attacks and some very small seizures when exposed to a high level of fear and apprehension; with the right emergency medication and therapy, I got over it and grew out of the disability. I chose not to ask why he was tied and gagged.

"Bella." Alice turned me to her with a forceful hand. "Please don't be afraid, but this is a very bad man that my brother and father need to get the right information out of. Can you help them?" How the hell did they know I spoke French? _Of course_, I screamed in my head. It was one of the first times Alice and I had went out on the town, and we stopped by this little French Rousseau where everything was so authentic. The waiters and barista spoke fluent French and all of the menus didn't even hold one word of English; I took advantage of it and flourish Alice with my bilingual ability, and she was instantly impressed. Why did I let her in on the secret? Well, back then I didn't think I needed to keep my knowledge of different languages a secret, and Alice was able to communicate with the waitresses at her favorite Italian deli… I just thought it would be cool if I were the one handling the conversation!

Emmett stood beside the covered man with his dinner jacket disposed, showcasing his wide expanse of shoulders and the two gun holsters that flanked his suspenders. I was staring right at him, and he was staring right back. His fine, golden hair shined in the fluorescent light- clashing against the olive-skin he wore, I couldn't help but think this was what they meant by tall, dark, and handsome. His mouth was set in a stern line, but those sensitive ocean blue eyes reminded that beside all of this risky business, he was more. Garrett yanked me around by my upper arm and thrust me in the direction of the man, nearly hurling me into his lap. I heard Alice chomp down on him in Italian behind me, but the up-close look at the gashes and dried blood upon his chest and neckline made me want to gag. I felt a gentle hand grab me by the elbow and situate me in a standing position once more; how could a massive man like Emmett conjure such elegance? "What's your name, _regazza_?" His voice was almost angelic.

"Isabella… Bella Swan." How could I make those three words sound so idiotic? I probably came off like a scared little mouse.

"Bella Swan, will you assist the Montebello family in…" His blue eyes roamed over my face as he sought out a good way to say this, "_better _communicating with this man? He speaks a foreign language we haven't yet distinguished." I thought they knew this man was speaking French, or as Garrett put it, "France language"? I nodded slowly, too hypnotized by his words to say anything else. Did he know the immediate effect he had on me? I hoped not. "I must warn you, there were _measures _taken earlier this day that have mangled different parts of his face. Are you easily sick by gruesome sights?" My dad and older cousins roughed me up a bit in childhood, so skinned knees and broken bones didn't easily freak me out.

But nothing I had never witnessed before could prepare me for his face. His nose was bent all the way to one side, while one eye was completely engulfed in a purple bruise; part of his lip was hanging off, while I was shocked to notice only one ear was still attached. There was a bloody, scabby mess where one ear used to be. "Oh, my god!" I screeched into my hand and began backing away from him. Emmett instantly held a firm hand around my wrist and urged me back to the scene. "No, no- this is wrong! You guys did this to him, those open wounds can get infected!" I cried helplessly, hoping one of these guys would take pity and help this man. "We need to help him!"

"And you will help him, by getting him to talk. He doesn't know English, you speak French- you're a smart girl, you can figure it out." There was no arguing with him, his tone was final. The prisoner looked up at me with a pleading eye and wobbling lip, begging me to save him in a language I came to recognize as Franco-Provençal, a language using derivatives from both French and Provencal.

"What's he saying?" Garrett called from atop the pool table, where he sat and swung his feet apprehensively. "You a mute now, Bella?" His voice was irritating the hell out of me- I blinked back a furious migraine, and he wasn't helping at all. How was I supposed to translate this man's words when I hardly comprehended what he meant? Why was I looking for, exactly? Why was he beaten to a bloody pulp? I groaned and shut my eyes against a hammering sensation in the back of my head; I didn't want to be here, I didn't want to be here! I felt the need to lay on the ground and wrap my arms around my knees, but I was too afraid Garrett might take it as an invitation to kick me for the fun of it. The room spun like a twisted Alice in Wonderland remake, with the red colors of the wallpaper and the swirled, blue marble floors.

Emmett came up behind me and allowed his mouth to hover over my right ear, where his hot breath tickled my neck. "Would you like Garrett removed from the room? He is easily mobile, so that your job is easier." I nodded quickly, hoping beyond hope that with him out of the picture, this would be so much easier. But as soon as I saw the back door open and Garrett practically dragged out, I realized that it could mean one less witness to my murder. Would they kill me if I didn't do this? "No, Isabella, this is a task dependant on time. The more time you waste, the less breaths he breathes."

I sucked in a shallow breath and stared at the skinny man before me in sympathy. So, if I did as they said he would live? In that case, wasn't it a crime if I didn't comply? "Okay, I- I'll do it." I inquired the man's name and his career, to which he spat right in my face. Emmett shoved me to the side and brought the butt of his gun down upon the man in a blur of practiced movements, but before he could go for a second blow, I placed a firm hand on his arm. The strong muscles beneath the long-sleeved dress shirt flexed under my fingers. "It's alright, I'm unharmed." I wiped the vile spit from my cheek and regarded him once more. After a deep breath, I conjured every conversation in French I ever had. "Sir, please tell me your name. This people will hurt you, ah- very badly." I began smoothly, glad that I was finally speaking a language only I knew.

"Hans von Burglehiem. Tell your little boyfriend to try and hit me with gun once I am untied!" I pleaded him with my eyes to shut up and quit with all of the exclamations in his voice, because while these Italians were ignorant of the dialect, they knew how to ready body language.

"He says his name is Hans. What else do you want to know?" I inquired testily to Emmett. Why didn't I correct Hans about Emmett not being my boyfriend? Maybe I liked the security of him thinking I was a piece of Montebello property, not to be touched by anyone with evil intentions. Emmett spit out a bunch of different questions, all according to a standard application for employment. Where we was born, his homeland, his age, his previous employer. I thought it was far too personal, but played proxy anyway. "Where were you born? Who do you work for?"

The skinny man's face transformed into a nasty smirk. "Bertrange, Luxembourg- home of the Gods. Do you _really _want to know who I work for? I'm not sure you're ready to hear it, little girl." He really thought himself something, didn't he?

"Spit it out." I replied evenly. How was someone still so unresponsive and cocky when they were tied, gagged, and beaten? It was a foolish stubbornness.

"What is he saying?" Emmett goaded.

"He's from a town in Luxembourg, called Bertrange. I- I've been there before, there is a colony there that speaks his language. It's called… Franco-Provençal." The facts fell loose my lips like a child slid down a soapy slip'n'slide. "It's a bit different from French, mixed with another language. But he is… he is-" Was there a nice way to say what he was? "Hans is being stubborn."

Emmett smirked evilly. "Tell him this very well may be his last hoorah in America."

I cleared my throat and regarded Hans. "They are threatening to kill you. Reveal who you work for." I was tearing up, even if I hated to show such a weakness, because I didn't want this man to be killed. I wanted him to rat whoever the hell Emmett wanted out already. My mind raced. "Your fingers will be cut, one by down, from smallest to largest- but you won't bleed out. They've promised to bandage it with alcohol-dipped cloth and sit you in the cool freezer until the next morning, where the same will be done to your feet." I detested how grimy I was being, but this was necessary. He needed to be scared, because he wasn't believing the amount of danger he was in right now."

Hans gulped and his shoulders twitched. "I was moving shipments for Peterick Hon Duiseille! It was our harbor! This filthy Italians always think land belongs to them, well, guess what? Tell your boyfriend that the Duiseille clan will take back what is ours, with much blood to shed!" He was screaming in my face at this point. "Tell this Italian grease boy that he can kiss the ass of Luxembourg, his smalltime American joint will be shut down! This company-thief trade is easily brought down, this piece of shit! This piece of shit! This piece of shit!" He kept repeating the last verses over and over again.

Alice and another man were arguing behind me, but I couldn't pay attention. What was this man trying to say? What did _company-thief _mean? "He… he said something about the restaurant. And a harbor. Peterick Hon Duiseille? And to… and to kiss the ass of Luxembourg." I was a stammering mess. Were these the answers he wanted? What was he even looking for? It almost sounded like a drug cartel to me, but I was no one to jump to conclusions. Emmett let out a maniacal chuckle before shoving the tip of his gun into Hans's small mouth. You could hear the distinctive breaking of teeth, and Emmett took great pleasure in pulling the gun out and then shoving it back in to do more damage. I cried out in sadness and yanked on his cocked arm to get him away from Hans. "Please, Emmett, please!" I begged for his life.

"_Bénissez-moi, Père_." Was the only words I could hear coming from Hans' mouth. Emmett finally pulled his gun out and leaned in to the poor guy, as if he could understand what he said if he spoke louder. "_Bénissez-moi, Père. Je vais répondre à vos portes du ciel, me font signe de vous, permettez-moi de se prélasser dans ta gloire._" Tears ran down my cheeks at his words; he knew these were going to be his final moments on Earth, why not devote them to God? "_Bénissez-moi, Père-_"

"What is the little prick saying?" The blue eyes that pierced right through me were not the ones that graced upon me a few minutes before.

How did I explain that he was cleansing himself for the afterlife? I was s crying mess, with snot running down my lip and tears smearing the eyeliner I drew on heavily. God, please save me from this. Please make this all be a dream. Please. "_Bénissez-moi, Père. Je vais répondre à vos portes du ciel, me font signe de vous, permettez-moi de se prélasser dans ta gloire_. _Pardonne les péchés que faire mousser ma peau dans l'impiété, envoyez-moi les angles lors de mon départ à vos bras, pardonne les coins assombrissement de mon âme_." I had read that somewhere, but maybe it was just like any other prayer? I closed my eyes and sent my very own prayer to Jesus Christ, or to the God that Anglicism allowed, that this man leave here unharmed.

"He's saying a prayer." I wrung my hands in my apron, feeling that dizzy apprehension reappear. "A prayer of death, which is unbefitting, right?" Emmett didn't even regard me as he nodded to another man, wherein Hans was covered with the potato sack once more and slowly untied. Where were they taking him? Where was he going to go? "What's going on? Why are they taking Hans away? I thought-"

The eldest Montebello son turned on his heel and stepped towards me, thrusting four hundred dollar bills in my hand. "Consider this as an appetizer to what the good wills that are going to done upon you, Miss Swan. You have been of the utmost assistance tonight." My hands shook when one of Emmett's flunkies, a short, bald Italian, loaded and spun his revolver.

"Emmett!" I cried anxiously and gripped his forearm tightly with one hand and pointed at the goon shakily with the other. "They're going to kill Hans! Don't let them shoot him, please! He answered all of your questions-"

"Shh." His voice like a lullaby to my ears as he held my face in both of his hands. "No one is going to shoot anyone, sweetheart." His Italian accent twisted the syllables in the English term of endearment. "What kind of criminals would we be if we murdered every little thief that trampled in? Don't worry about this guy, he'll be on the first cargo plane to his shitwater town in Germany by the morning. But I need you to calm yourself and wash your face up, then go back to serving your tables and collecting your tips, alright?" Why did I nod in agreement? Everything happened in slow motion- he traded me into Alice's care, she washed my running makeup off, applied some more dark color, and helped me clear the backlog of impatient clients and dinner orders.

What the hell did I get myself into?


	4. There Is Something On Your Mind

"Do you think I pay you to stand around and look pretty? Get out there and serve your tables!" Garrett barked at me loudly, making Jessica turn around from where she was serving two cups of Coke; why didn't he do this in front of Alice? I had no rebuttal, just nodded and snatched the three plates of spaghetti from the chef's counter and went around the counter to serve my awaiting clients. There was a group of French men seated in my area, and for some reason they all looked like Hans to me. In my initial shock, I shuddered visibly and spilled the spaghetti right onto the floor, soiling the closest man's shoes very quickly. I squealed and began apologizing profusely in French, hoping he wouldn't go to Mr. Montebello and complain; what would happen if I lost this job? Would the Montebellos kick me out of their house if I roused bad business? I really wanted them to like me, and I wanted to show my appreciation for their hospitality.

"I assure you, Miss, I am fine." His sly smile and the nonchalance he had for his material possession made me blush with instant attraction. "I will buy a new pair, my daughter was growing tired of these in any sense." The two other men at his table laughed accordingly; he had a daughter? He looked pretty young to me.

"I still am very sorry, Sir. I will be back with another plate immediately, along with a complimentary bottle of wine." Mr. Montebello accepted shipments of wine from everywhere many times a day, and so he often allowed the employees to choose a bottle of their liking to take home at the end of the night. That is, if we did not use it to quell a customer's anger.

"Think nothing of it." He waved his hand dismissively. "Pull up a seat." I wanted to remind him that I was busy on this Thursday night, but I was already teetering on a bad servicewoman, so I did as he said and pulled a stray chair from the empty table next to him. We weren't in the private rooms, but there was a very large meeting being held in room A through C, and so Alice and one of her friends, Liza, waited their tables. Liza worked here seasonally, or maybe just a few times a month, I wasn't sure. But every time I did see her, she was so done up and overly dressed to be waiting tables- mind you, she never served a table unless it was in the private rooms. Did I mention that she rode around in a Bentley? "This is an Italian restaurant, authentic to the very niche." This pale-skinned man surmised with swiftness.

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Yet you speak fluent French. Pardon my offensive curiosity, but it is baffling why with such a talented tongue, you are waiting tables in the wrong culture." I blushed at the double meaning to his words, but didn't let myself think too much about it. Perhaps he only meant that I knew such a grandeur language and could apply it at will, so why be a waitress when you could be a translator?

"I got lost on my way to French Cuisine college." I replied smartly, much to humor of the men at the table. "If you don't mind, sir, I need to-"

"No, no." He shook his head. "Call me Tourie, these are my colleagues Jacque and Percy. Your name, mademoiselle?" Another blush at his casual language.

Did I really want these guys to know my name? The last time I had a conversation with a French man in this restaurant, he ended up getting beaten and from my knowledge, disappeared. "Bella." There, simple enough. They didn't need to know my full name, and I didn't favor the name Isabella anyway.

"Evening, gentlemen." Emmett's booming voice spoke from above me; I turned my neck so quickly that it hurt, eyes widening. What would he think of me? I was being paid from his own fortune, was he paying me to sit there and gossip with these guys? I hoped he didn't assume I was flirting. "On behalf of the Montebellos, we are pleased to serve your meal once more."

Tourie smirked regally. "It is a pleasure," he eyes swiped my face for a moment, "to be here, Mr. Montebello. Bella here was just explaining the delicacies Montebello Cuisine has to offer, along with the prestigious wine I have come to hear quite often of." What the hell was he saying? I didn't know shit about wine, only that red tasted better than white! Why was he building me up in front of Emmett? "I can reassure you, Mr. Montebello, there will be so little to critique to my review in this week's column." He was a food critic? I lost the color in my face, seeing as I just spilled food all over the feet of someone every important to the Montebellos. What was their other review like? Would this one be worse? "It seems your father has concocted a very splendid _restau_."

"Thank you for your valuable time, Monsieur Huieseax; Bella." Emmett nodded to me in a gesture that meant I had better skip the heck of out there. So I followed his instructions and gave a small farewell before returning to my tables. On my break, I dove into the restaurant and sat down on the closed toilette seats with my head between my knees; did I just blow it for the Montebellos? Yeah, Tourie was saying all of these wonderful things about me and the restaurant, but did he mean it? Maybe he would include what really happened in his actual review. I would surely be fired then, since I omitted something very important to Emmett and Carlisle. Maybe if I admitted to them now, they would be less harsh to me when the column came out next week? My mind raced, and before I knew it, the contents of my stomach lurched right up my windpipe and came spilling out uncontrollably. I barely had enough time to aim at the toilette, let alone move my hair out of the way. Jessica heard my barfing and ratted me out to Alice, who forced me to get in her car and drove me to her parent's house. I was on bed rest for the entire evening and most of the next day, but I failed to explain to Alice just why I felt so sick and lifeless.

Was this the plan? Could I really live with the pressure and power Montebello Cuisine put me under? I couldn't handle with meeting and serving big, important people, and neither could I take ever one of those interrogations again. I just… I wasn't cut out for this.

**Wednesday-**

I was just finishing up the toll of Mescal shots ordered during my shift, which was always on the double figure flipside. If I worked weekends, I knew those numbers would be tripled! These Italians liked their Mescal. "Hey, Bella, Emmett Montebello wants to see you in his office." Tanya whispered shyly as she passed by my work station; my heart sank into my stomach. Was he going to fire me? Was this it for me? Where else was I going to find a job in the big city, where my small-town mindset wouldn't affect my fighting chance for a place in the workforce? I nodded and sent a fleeting thanks before setting my notepad down and making my way to his office room, or where I imagined it would be. There weren't too many compartments of this area that I was unfamiliar with, seeing as I was always being bounced around and sent to do many errands. We never saw much of the oldest Montebello child, he always out on errands or something. What did he do for a living anyway? Did he work for the restaurant? Obviously not in the way Alice did, but maybe money management?

I knocked on the wooden door apprehensively and stepped in when he called me to. "Hello." I let out a shallow breath and tried to fixate a dainty smile for him. "Tanya said you called for me?"

"Yes." Emmett stood up from behind his desk nodded slowly, allowing his eyes to roam over my tired face for some time- well, at least he was keeping his sights chin up. "Oh, come- sit here. You look thoroughly exhausted." I didn't like the idea of sitting in his big, imposing leather chair but it looked so damn comfortable! I did as he said and plopped down ungracefully, allowing my body to just unwind for a few seconds. If he was going to fire me, he wouldn't have let me sit in his chair, would he? "Would you mind if I helped to ease your tension?" What did me mean by that? Emmett set down his drink and moved behind me- a million thoughts ran through my head; was he going to kill me for my mistake with Mr. Tourie? I watched plenty of Hollywood mafia movies where unimportant goons were killed and disposed of very easily. I wasn't that important here, just another waitress in the same dress.

But then his hands gripped my shoulders, then his fingers started massaging my neck and collarbone. It was nerve wrecking at first to have some stranger's hands on me, but we did witness an assault and battery conviction, along with an attempted murder followed with a kidnapping together. I guess that made us a little more than strangers, it made us jail cell buddies. A small sigh followed by a barely audible moan escaped my lips; did he take ancient Chinese rub-down classes in college? He knew how to knead and pull at nerves on my exposed shoulders. I closed my eyes and didn't even react when I felt his warm breath on my ear. "I understand that you have been exposed to a great amount of stress, Bella."

"Mmmhmm." I made the small noise with my eyes and mouth closed. Whatever he said wouldn't matter to me, just as long as I would be able to continue to be unstressed by this man and his golden ways.

"Which is why we find it in our best intrest to grant you paid time off." Just who was "we"? I didn't doubt that Alice told her parents about my overwhelming stress and the effects of what happened a week ago. This was the nice way of firing me, wasn't it? A vacation and then a notice that I no longer work here. "Think of it as a… vacation pay." My eyebrows wrinkled at that, but I didn't turn around to face him, in fear that he would stop what he was doing.

"But I've only just started a month ago. People like Jessica and Tanya have worked here for years, and they-" I started.

"Yes, but they have not spent more than an hour collectively in the private rooms, where your kind of service is very much needed." That shut me up very quickly. I didn't like him mentioning how I was wrong and weak to help aid his criminal ways. "It is an… intense private room setting. Sessions like those are not rare, you must understand." He wasn't coming right out and saying, "yeah, I'm kind of a mobster that uses this restaurant to do my business," but wasn't that the tone he was using? And although I had no real proof about mafia-ness, what Hans said about the crooked use of this place and the "shipments" and the "harbors", there was really no other explanation for the shady activity here. I opened my eyes to more fully consume what he meant. Basically, this was his admittance to all of the scenarios I played in my mind before bed each night? "Each session puts a valid year on your life."

I chuckled with him, only to lighten the moment, but I didn't want him to think I accepted all of this. "I can't possibly take your offer, no matter how generous and appealing it may be. Staff will be short one hand, and since Garrett," I growled out the godforsaken name with more vice than ever before, "doesn't like to hire new people, nor train seasonal workers, I don't see how your offer will possibly work." Jeez, who _didn't _want paid time off? It looked like a godsend for the hellish week I seemed to be having, but I just couldn't let them play favorites with me. The other employees would surely have a fit and I wanted these people to like me… they were already starting to feel like family to me. His hands left me as he his folded his bulging, muscular arms and leaned his backside against the rim of his cedar desk. He was too comfortable this close to me, and I was starting to get a little agitated about it. I had a private bubble, with no Emmett allowed!

His tiny smile did me in. "Though I appreciate your interest regarding the internal affairs of this restaurant, do not fret over matters that you have no say nor control over. You are going to take this time off, Bella, my father has already manipulated the shifts and employee roster." I gnawed on my lower lip, well, he just put me in my place. Emmett had this natural urge to be demeaning and he loved to take his power trips. What could I possibly do with that free time? Sure, there was sightseeing and huge New York City attractions, and with all of the money I had already saved up from tips and my first two paychecks, matters of transportation and financial means were easy. But it wasn't going to be as safe nor fun without my best friend. "You have won the hearts of my _familia_, Bella, Swan. From all of the drawn-out adventures and kind-hearted stories Alice has retold of you over the years, you are the golden girl my parents were dying to meet. They weren't the least bit disappointed." My hands shook at his compliments. Alice told them about me? Her parents genuinely liked me? I didn't see much of them during the week because of work and the fact that Esme Montebello traveled often for different fabrics for her collections. We only ever interacted on Sundays, every seventh day of the week was the same- church, a huge feast, and then lazy conversations. It didn't give any of us that much time to dive deep into each others life.

"I'm… glad that they like me." Emmett scoffed at my understatement. I tried very hard to stay on peoples' good sides, and I hated stepping on another person's shoes or ever making them feel displeased. I liked impressing, and I thought very highly of those that also cared about what people thought about them. Perhaps that was why Alice and I were such good friends.

"Having a Montebello in your corner can be very beneficial, Bella." I nodded in agreement, as I knew what having big social ties looked like. Look at OJ Simpson, George Zimmerman, Martha Stewart… normal people could never get away with half of the things that powerful people slipped out of. It was an unfair advantage that money and fame brought supremacy to the table when it came to civil rights and the equality we thought we all had. "As of now, you have the lot of us." He winked suggestively at me as he snatched a clear glass from the inner cabinets of his standalone bar. Emmett poured a cup of Scotch and took long drinks before licking his lips. "I respect your maturity and thoroughness. While my sister has a different opinion, I think you will do just fine in this business." What, Alice didn't think I could pull my own weight here in the restaurant? I tried not to read too far into his words. He wasn't very trustable, anyway.

I blushed when I considered his words once more. "Thank you fro giving me the chance to work here. Other than the French interrogation, I really enjoy my work." He offered his glass and I took a long sip. When was the last time I drank expensive scotch? Oh, right, never! While I was just over the twenty-one mark, my father and mother never restricted me from the occasional cold beer, and my moms family in Phoenix urged me to broaden my horizons. But I never drank the good stuff, half because I hated the smell, half because I never rationalized spending more than twenty dollars on a bottle that would be gone in less than a day. "Thanks." I handed him back the drink and wiped a little extra from my mouth the palm of my dry hand. "My tables are probably getting impatient-"

Emmett waved his hand as he withdrew a small, square cake from his office's fridge. "Tanya Denali has been instructed to take care of your customers tonight. I suppose they are all under the impression that I am to slap your wrists, or fire you tonight." I gulped, thinking the same damn thing. The cake was already cut into even slices, all he did was transfer a piece onto a porcelain plate; I licked at my lips because of the ringing temptation to tear that cake a part, but if he wasn't going to offer I wasn't going to ask. Alice and I usually snuck some sweets out of the chef's stash of pastries from the kitchens anyway. "You made a point in saying that those two women have been working here longer than you have, but I doubt you see the big picture. It is a matter of quality, over quantity." I nodded, but wasn't sure where he was going with that.

He handed me a fork and gestured to the plate between us; Emmett was still leaning against the table, now a bit more hunched over to better access the food on his desk. Should I have rejected his cake, seeing as this was a little too intimate for a boss-employee interaction? Should I have offered him his comfy chair back, instead of being a selfish prick and enjoying the soft cushion under my bum? "So delicious." I moaned into the small piece of cake in my mouth. Why couldn't forever feel like this? I sat in his chair regally and took small pieces from the cake until there was just no more left.

"Given the choice, would have you have chosen a large piece of plain bread, or this small piece of flavored cake?" Emmett had this coolness about him, but I knew this was some sort of test. Would he kill me if he find out that I hated plain bread, and the only way I would eat it is if it came with a tub of butter?

I swallowed the remaining contents and pressed my lips together before releasing them. "Um, the cake." I wanted to ask why he would inquire such a proposition, didn't he just witness how delighted I was about the delicious ass dessert?

He smirked and slid his hands in his pockets. "But the bread is bigger, and the cake is smaller." My eyebrows knitted together as I considered him.

"But the cake tastes much better." And then it slowly hit me. "It's about the quality, not the quantity." I smiled when I learned the message behind this cake-eating session we just had. Had he brought the cake over, just to prove a point to me? I guess in food terms, I could understand where he was coming from with the whole quality over quantity deal. Even if I was the newbie, I did more in one day than Jessica and Tanya had done in the last four years. "Wow, that cake was really good. Thanks." I added for the effect.

A small smile graced his face as I spoke. What was so humorous? That was one things that I didn't like about him- I could never read his expression, or his eyes. His actions and reactions would always be a mystery right until the moment his put them in place. "I enjoy watching you eat- you get so consumed by your food, its as if you can taste every single ingredient." My face grew red from his words; yeah, food was a great weakness of mine.

I shrugged in shyness. "I love cake." The only defense I could conjure was a weak smile, so I squirmed under his gaze.

I felt his stare shift around for a few seconds before he shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Have you told mama about your hankering for pastries? She is a fine _pandera_." Just the thought of Esme Montebello's cooking made my mouth water with a hundred different cravings. Man, that woman could cook! I licked my lips to get the last taste of the banana nut cake when his eyes suddenly zoned in on something on my face. Before I had the chance to wipe my face, he leaned in and held my face still as his tongue lapped up the smeared vanilla icing at the corner of my mouth. I was frozen still, as I really hadn't ever considered him doing something like that, and when my eyes darted up to look at him, his eyes were closed. When I didn't move away from him, he planted a small kiss there and roamed the pad of his thumbs across my cheekbones in our silence.

I sighed lightly and gave into the relaxation he was offering me; Emmett was handsome, and so worldly. Even if there was no romance or apparent sexual tension, it was nice to be touched so tenderly by another. It made me feel safe and loved, seeing as there weren't a million men waiting in line to kiss me. "Cake tastes much better this way." He chuckled easily. I fought the urge to reach up and touch his muscles, defined under his long-sleeve collared shirt.

I snickered at his cheekiness. "Sure." But then there was a loud series of knocks on the door and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Oh my god, what if it was Alice or Mr. Montebello? wouldn't they think I was a real skank for being in Emmett's office for so long? And the girls- they would truly see right through my façade and realize that he and I almost kissed… I put my head in my hands, my reputation could be ruined here! All for some stupid cake.

Emmett answered the door and in stepped a stocky individual, with small a pooch growing in his stomach area, but more bicep muscles on his short self than I had ever seen on a man my own size. He looked to be a few inches shorter than my 5 feet, 3 inches, but he looked a lot more dangerous than me. There was a tattoo covering one eyes, of sharp angles and dark black shading done in the designs. "Louie, come in." He allowed the man to step around him and Louie instantly regarded me with a hard eye. "_Questo e il mio compagno vicino, Bella Swan_." I pretended not to understand the greeting and shook the short man's hand, but it irked me. _This is my close companion, Bella Swan_- I wanted to scream, _no, we're __**not **__companions! _Because being his companion would make me just as bad as him. I was not his companion, or friend, or girl. He was my boss, I was his employee, that was it! But it wasn't like I could correct him, seeing as _technically _I didn't know Italian. "Bella, this is a colleague of mine, Louie Garcia." His name sounded more Mexican than Italian, but I didn't digress.

I nodded and stood erect, taking this as my cue to leave. "Thank you for your time." My voice was nonchalant, as if Emmett and I had only shaken hands, exchanged names, and nothing more. "It was nice to meet you, Louie." I smiled before dashing out the door and ran right into Alice. She looked tired, but had a smile reserved for me.

"So?" She asked expectantly as we walked back to the kitchen counters, awaiting our food to be prepared.

"What?" I shot out quickly- had she figured out about Emmett and I, and our little intimate touch in his office? Did she hate me for getting that intimate with her brother, with no intention of moving forward?


	5. But Now You're In My Way

"My brother did mention the part where you're taking off a week from work, right?" Alice fired off her first round of ammunition. "I swear to god, that man can get so caught up in his musings that he cant get one real thing done-" Paul urged her to grab the steaming plates off the counter, but she put a hand up to him, her crazy-colored acrylic claws warning the chef to hush up. "Kinda busy here, pal." Where did this sassy broad come from? I guess she was losing touch of the Seattle kid inside of her. "Like I was saying, my brother seriously needs to sticky note himself little reminders that this business comes before his stupid Rangers game, or his precious football season! Oh, and don't get him started about his "prediction" coming true over the Heat winning the NBA playoffs title! Who does he think he is? What, Lebron James- but my brother works like him, only shoots where it counts in the fourth quarter." The unofficial jab at both the Miami Heat star player and her brother made me laugh my butt off; what was Alice doing with that kind of information, anyway?

"Alice." I spoke to her in a calming tone. "Cool down, your brother told me about the vacation time. I tried to oppose it, but he said that even Mr. Montebello wanted it for me, so I accepted. I'm just punching in my time card and I'll be on my way to the nice, comfortable bed awaiting me." I teased lightly before going to the timecard station in the employee lobby. Alice let me take her car home and just asked that out her shopping bags she left in there from the day before; she added that Paul was going to drop her off home, but what did that entail? I told myself I would ask her later, but I slept most of the night and even skipped dinner.

I enjoyed my first day of vacation with nothing but sleep and food gluttony. I ate every last piece of lemon meringue pie Mama Montebello made, but who could blame me? It was serenely delicious! Alice had to work, since there was no one with her rank to take over personal clients. Being the daughter of owner meant a lot, seeing as everyone that bought from the restaurant was a close-knitted family; if they came to see a certain waitress wait on them, or came to _not _be seen there at all, they got what they wanted. I roamed on Dotcom, the most popular social networking site of the moment, where my old friends from Washington University and alumni from high school posted ridiculous memes and complained about the smallest things of life on "status updates". People like Ben and Angela wrote friendly comments on the most recent pictures of my new life in New York I posted, my mom sent me a request to list me as her daughter, and to my horror, Jackson Ochoa wrote a long, drawn-out post on my wall. "Bella, you've only gotten prettier with time. Have I told you lately that I love you, pretty girl? : ). My parents might miss you more than I do, not too sure. I hope the East Coast is everything you wanted it to be. Is the worst part about it that I'm not there? Call me when you see this, we need to talk about how things are. You're not answering any of my texts, too busy or what? Anyway, call soon : )."

I gnawed on my lower lip, what was his problem? Jackson was my very first boyfriend, freshmen year of college; we dated for a few months and only lasted a few weeks in a relationship before he realized I wasn't it for him. One lousy phone call and a drunk text message full of apologies, and that was it- he ended it there, and to my shame I pined for his attention (through friendship & flirting, I tried it all), but after the new year we decided to forget one another even existed. That was the case until last august, where he chose to friend request me and demand my new number. At the time, I was considering dating him again and really, there wasn't a whole lot going on in my life. But now there was, and I understood he needed to stay in the past as a lesson leaned and mistake over with. So I ignored it for now and promised myself I would delete him off of my friend's list ASAP. Who cared if he figured it out, it wasn't like the chances of he and I running into one another were all that great! I took a few more power naps throughout the day and finally awoke at seven, when Alice came bounding in my room. Our rooms had a conjoining door that made for easy access to the en suite bathroom on her side of the wing, along with the full wardrobe of fabulous clothing and accessories we shared. My contribution of clothing and accessories had gained momentum lately, with all of the extra money I was earning now, but my yellow Minohlos and matching Michael Kors earring and charm bracelet set was not saying much to her fine Italian leather bags and top of the line, Peruvian-shipped ballet flats.

We were both size 7 in shoes and shared the similar taste of flashy-with-an-edge-of-class, but our clothing size was off- I was a good two sizes larger than her in standard shirts and dresses, and while she was below a 0 (as if that were possible with an Italian diet) I was a solid seven in jeans. Curves and goodies didn't come at a small price! "Hello, sleepy head. Enjoyed your first day off?" I nodded and flipped though the glossy fashion magazine she dropped on my bed. Alice sighed loudly and plopped on the bed next to me with her legs in the air, belly down.

What was with the loud sighs? They usually only meant one thing. I saved the page I was reading, some expo on the inhumane use of animal testing for cosmetics, and turned to her with a soapy look. "No going out tonight, okay? I'm really not up for it." I knew this was the perfect time to go out and enjoy myself, seeing as I was twenty-one, without kids or a husband, and financially secure. This was supposedly my prime time, but nothing sounded better than resting my feet some more and tuning into a dramatic soap opera.

"Going out? Who said anything about that?" Alice feigned a quirky look. "Why would someone actually enjoy going out on the town? What, with the delicious mixed drinks, the very handsome single men, the heart-pounding base system and smashing music, and don't forget the _dreary _laughter that comes with meeting good people in a new setting!" She shook her head with a fake scowl on her face. "Who is crazy enough to enjoy all of that?"

"Firstly," I pointed an index finger at her, "sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. Secondly, none of what you said is accurate! The drinks are average on a good day and overpriced, the men are mostly sloppy and drunk if not overly-touchy, the DJ's have sworn in oath to push the same annoying play list of mainstream pop, and strangers at a bar are not people you with, but _at_!" My best friend was an idiot and often manipulated details to her liking.

She rolled her big, blue eyes. "Whatever, Bella, you know you like going out. Deep, deep, deep down inside." The silly smile on her face started to creep me out. Seriously, what was her motive?

"Yeah, sometimes." I shrugged softly. "But out to eat, or to a nice dance club where they play more genres than nauseating _pop_." I was an early bloomer, having skipped two grades in elementary school- so I was barley seventeen when I started college, I barely just turned 21 in September! Alice dragged me to plenty scene clubs with shitty music and ballrooms that rented out to live bands and such, but I enjoyed restaurants and seated entertainment. Dancing wasn't a strength of mine, but in the right atmosphere, I would try anything. "What do you want from me, Alice? I can see it all over your face."

Alice grinned from ear to ear. "Mama is making past risotto tonight and its my dish night, but this guy asked me on a date tonight and I totally forgot it was a Thursday!" Mama Montebello was very serious about kitchen cleanup and even if she did had hired help for the rest of the house, she never allowed maids into the kitchen. It was like her safe haven, where everything made sense and nothing could negatively affect her. "Can you do them tonight, for me? Please? It would mean everything to me!" Alice rose to her knees, but I was still belly down, looking up at her in a painful angle.

"Who's this guy?" I was sort of uncomfortable with her leaving me all alone tonight. Her parents were kind, yes, but what if her brother showed up? He was unpredictable, and I would be all alone to be preyed on! That was a sticky situation waiting to happen. Dish night was easy- the turbo dishwasher did all of the work for you in a very timely manner. All I had to do was dry the dishes and put them away accordingly.

Her simple thrust of shoulders made me re-think this. "We always bump into one another at the gym, and yesterday he asked me out and I accepted. His name is Wiley. Sounds totally European, right?" Her round eyes lit up happily. She went to the gym right after work a few times a week while I came back here and slept until dinner was done at nine every night. It was weird at first to eat so late, but I got used to their Italian hours- I even picked up their habit of drinking black coffee after supper to cleanse myself.

What would my dad think of me? He detested eating any later than six o clock on a normal night, and to him coffee was only used as a second alarm clock or small stress-relieving fix. Charlie used to tell me that men who couldn't afford cigarettes drank coffee. "Yeah, Ali, all of our names derive from Europe." I pointed out harshly.

She rolled her eyes at me. "Yeah, right, Bella. You are just being a Negative Nancy right now! Wanna come pick out an outfit for me to wear tonight? I'm considering a small, coral romper. Maybe those goldish, metallic wedges I told you about last week?" Her rambling when on for an hour. She even made me sit on the toilette seat as she mused about his "mysterious" eyes while showering. "…I know most people say silver colored irises creep them out, but I like it! Wiley has these bluish, silver eyes that remind me a snow cone that you buy from a vendor- you know, the vendors that are so cheap they don't put nearly enough blue syrup in the ice for flavor? It's that kinda blue." Her dreamy sigh was so sickening to hear; I really was glad Alice and I were so close, we were sisters practically.

So when I felt the natural need to piss, I pulled down my undies and did so. "So, you're saying Mr. McDreamy's eyes are Cheap Snow Cone Blue?" I had to force a little bit more pee out, just to be sure I was finished, causing a grunting sound to come from my lips.

"Bella, are you peeing while I'm in the shower?" Alice sounded outraged, but I did this all the time when we shared an apartment in Seattle. Although Alice was a very intelligent student, with grades and marks more impressive than even my own, some of her thinking was off. "You know that if you flush, all that pee water is going to mix with the clean water that I'm showering with. Bella! You _know _I hate when you pee while I shower!"

I shrugged before wiping and flushing. "Think about that the next time I'm taking a shit and you're brushing your teeth." Alice made a gut-wrenching gag noise at my vulgar words; I still didn't understand, was it a phobia of hers, or odd fear? "Oh, shut up, Ali. It's a piping system- two different pipes, two different liquids."


	6. Drama, Drama, Girl Fight

**A/N: Any reviewer that can guess at least three out of the four very popular television reality TV shows I made references to in my made up "Drama Drama Girl Fight" gets the next chapter before I update it to FFNet!**

Alice and I lounged in her big, comfy bed and watched a few episodes of "Drama, Drama, Girl Fight", which was the hottest show on TV as of yet- it included hair salons, the hip hop industry, girls with blonde hair, catty claws, country accents, and cheating boyfriends. What more could someone ask for when it came to American Television? "Hannah deserves to get her ass beat! Believe me, if I was Olivia or Rasheeda, she would have not gotten away with all of that!" This drama brought out the ghetto in Alice, and I found it so humorous.

"But it's not like they can just kick her ass- remember last season when she made that law suit against Gabby? Yes, you do- we watched that episode as soon as we got back from visiting my parents for the weekend!" Alice looked around in contemplation before shaking her head. "Remember, Gabby threw that drink in her sister's face when they exposed the affair she had with Don? And then she was going crazy at the restaurant, not thinking that Hannah the Snitch was there! Gabby was trying to leave when Hannah got all in her face and then-"

"Oh, yeah!" Alice squealed happily. "And Gabby hit Hannah with the door, I remember! Oh, what a bitch; doesn't matter, law suit or not, I would still open a can of whip ass on her." I laughed endlessly at the New Yorkian coming out in her. "What? What are you laughing at?"

"Dude, your small accent is coming back." She was quickly losing her neutral tones, and now had that little edge to her words- it was more Italian than the east coast slang jumping around, but it was still authentic. She explained that it was just something she was born with, not a slight of tongue from where she grew up. Funny enough, she loved Staten Island like no other, but it wasn't where she spent most of her time. Her mom spent lots of time in Italy with her sick grandmother, and her father checked on his restaurants spread across the country. Alice and Emmett were bounced from mother to father, one part of the world to another through their childhood. From what Alice said, she didnt put her roots down until her first year of high school, where her parents agreed that staying at their first restaurant was smartest. The Montebellos really were brilliant, not just as people but as a business in whole. Every component worked together finely.

"Because I'm getting my Staten Island on, that's why! You never know, you might just lose that Washington accent." I scoffed at her smart ass.

"Shut up, I do not have an accent!" I sounded the same as my cousins in Phoenix, and some of the people I met here in New York. "Alice, are we really going to leave this comfort anytime soon? I mean, our own place sounds good but _look_..." I patted the crisp sheets beneath us and sniffed the air, "you're not gonna miss the maids that clean everyday, and the clean sheets that smell like flowers? And what about lazy days like this- no more super humongous flat screens and rent-free amenities like pay per view channels and unlimited wireless internet!" Montebello Manor was equipped with all of the things that kept children at home with their parents. It was a trap I didn't mind falling into.

Alice rolled her eyes with a smile. "The repairs and new roofing wont be done for another four months, you might change your mind in that timeframe. Living with parents isn't all its cracked up to be- for one, they constantly put it in your face that everything belongs to them and not you. Secondly, when you have a fight or argument, you are forced to stomp up to your room like a fourteen year old, you can't just leave. Thirdly, your day depends on their mood- one moment you're great & the next they hate you for staying here, and they're yelling at you but you can't really say much since you're still living there. It's all about politics, Bella." She really just compared living home with rich parents to the dirty politicians swarming out there? I tried my hardest to contain an eye roll at her idiot tendencies.

I pursed my lips at her. "Your parents have not done that to you!"

"They did it to my brother until he moved out when he was nineteen, even transferred to a college in Alaska to get away from their jibes. He is four years older than me, but I understood clear as day what went on. My parents love us dearly, but our personalities clash for real, and it makes it so hard to function. You're an exception, Bella, you fit in nicely with all of us." That made me special, and I liked that feeling of fitting in just right. Her phone starting ringing loudly, an old "New Kids On The Block" jingle, just then. "Oh shit!" We fished around for it until she pulled from under a throw pillow. "Hey mom." Alice replied breathlessly. "Yeah, okay... where is it? Alright, I'll do it. Okay, love you, mama. Alright- I'll tell her… alright, buh-bye."

"What?" Mama Montebello always had tasks and chores for us when we didn't work; that's how this household was. Mr. Montebello made us work at his restaurant to teach us stability and some workforce skills, not because we needed to- he handed out money to Alice and I like it was going out of style. Money for the movies, money for gas to visit a concert in Virginia, money to go out to eat at a restaurant that he didnt already have a tab in. He urged us to keep our own money saved & put aside, but I still felt guilty from time to time. Wouldn't his money just run out soon enough? No money pot was bottomless. "Don't tell me she needs another live mannequin?" Mrs. Montebello was a little thinner than me, but she fell in love with my figure and tried to prompt me to go with her to dress fittings so that her seamstress could take my size down and create pieces according to my figure.

Why was I the same size, if not larger, than an older woman after two Italian kids? Life was not fair. "Mama wants us to take the pineapple pound cake to the restaurant for papa and Emmett. She made pound cake last night and I missed it?" I nodded gloatingly.

"Oh yeah, and it was good." I rubbed my stomach in a loving gesture. "It gave me a food baby." She laughed at my idiot comment and slapped my arm to push me off of the bed. "Okay, I'm going!" I hated getting dressed when I was already in a lazy mode- it was such a drag! "I'm just putting on a track suit!" I yelled from my bedroom before selecting a purple Juicy Cotoure velour suit and slapped on a pair of black UGGs. This was comfort. I applied minimal makeup and tied my hair in a loose bun, trying my best not to cringe at my tore back reflection when Alice popped into my room with her dress pants and fancy blouse.

"Ready? I need to stop by Studio 52 and turn in my renewal contract afterward." Alice took two ballet courses and one street jazz class during the week, scheduled in between the gym and work. One of her ballet classes only met for competitions, while the other practiced once to twice a week.

We wrapped the half eaten cake up and left to the restaurant. "Where's mama at?" At first, it was weird to call her that, but Alice's parents insisted, and i was not one to displease.

"She's in a meeting with some other magazine people." Her mom co-owned Interior Eccela, a magazine that centered on middle class families, and approached worldly issues in controversial articles and appointed stances. "She's always trying to tell me that I'm the one that's spoiled! Emmett and my papa are the spoiled ones!" Mr. Montebello was the only one I couldn't personally regard, seeing as magic thought him as more of a boss and less of a father figure. I had a father growing up, one that was proactive in my life and supported me, and so I didn't find myself drawn to the character that Carlisle was. He was constantly working, with his mind always on his business. But my mother... she was less than average, she was never there for me. Renee didn't cook, she hired the neighbor to clean our house and backyard, and all she enjoyed doing was gambling and drawing in her Art room in the back of the house. There was a small shed we had in the back, where most of her paintings were stored and kept for safekeeping, and she occasionally left me alone in my room in our spacious one story house. From online poker to high stakes dog races, she enjoyed it all. "They work in a restaurant, what's so hard about ordering some cake from Chef Sam?"

I noticed the small quiver in her voice when she said his name. "I bet you'd like to order some cake from Chef Sam." I added a lot of exaggeration to his name for the desired effect; her cheeks turned an embarrassed shade of red and her two hands tightened on the wheel.

"First of all, he and I are nothing more than friends." Alice squared her shoulders before glancing back at me; her ridiculously large ring on her index finger was 14 karat gold and looked heavy enough to sink her down to the bottom of the sea, not to mention that it shined with real diamonds in a blinding gesture. "And what about you? What, did you think I couldn't see the romance blossoming?" My face lost all color at the thought of her knowing about Emmett and I... not that there was anything to really know. "You and Jacob are all over each other!" Her lazy smile was sideways as she shifted her head around before making an illegal U-turn, but I was glad she couldn't see the relieved look on my face.

Jacob Black was just this guy to me, nothing important. He was the Head Barista at Montebello Cuisine and sent me an occasional "Hello" and sometimes went out of his way to share lunch with me. "Oh, yeah, Jacob. Well, I think it's just kind of... a crush he has. He'll get over it." Jacob was at least a year younger than me, seeing as he was still in college. "He's definitely not my type." I added quickly.

"Not your type?" Alice parroted with a quirky look on her face. "Since when do you have a "type"?" I wasn't sure when I first began boxing myself in with preconceived visuals and ideals of what my future love was supposed to be like, but all I knew was that it was now all I could think about. "I've known you for over four years, and you've never mentioned this "type" to me! When did you begin to look for just one type of guy?" Sometimes I couldn't even get a full night's sleep- I would lay awake, thinking about my dream guy and all of the qualities he would _have_ to have.

"Well, I'm not positive," I slowly replied, trying to buy some time until I had to answer her, "I guess I like them strong and masculine, oh- but definitely attentive to my feelings and completely understanding about my dedication to the restaurant. Mmm… someone with a lot of opinions and new conversation topics everyday, but not too overwhelming or too yappy. A guy with worldly views and a well-structured life, with a nice house and a decent living." All of those expectancies were a little high, but it was hard to admit that I was picky. I was very selective with the men I dated, often earning me cruel names like "frigid" and "snobby".

Alice tried to hide her small grin. "Someone like my brother Emmett?" That suggestion was the most ridiculous thing I ever heard! _Emmett _being my dream guy? No, not in a million years. And when that million years was over, I would spit in his face and kick dirt in his eyes before making him wait another millennia to share even a word with me!

"You mean controlling, immature, obnoxious, startling, rectifying Emmett?" I offered the foul names in pure defense against the truth she just laid out in front of us. He was a muscleman, with college degrees and interesting conversations, and he did ask about my feelings and pretend to worry over me. Those were his qualities, yeah, but he was just... the wrong situation. Never did I use his descriptive term, _gangster_.

"Those last two words... is that what his presence does to your vagina?" I spluttered at her cheeky remark, nearly spilling the cold frappecinno all over my lap. I sent her an obstructed look, but she steadily ignored me as she pulled onto Peasant Avenue. "Startling, rectifying..." Alice mimicked my adjectives. "Where was orgasmic?" I sent her an evil glare before she turned into the parking lot and threw her Mini Coop into park. Alice promised to go car shopping with me next month when I would have enough for a solid down payment on a bran new car. My dad would be so proud of me for purchasing a car of my own. "Can you take Emmett his piece of the cake? I have to relay the _very _unfortunate news of his boyhood parrot's recent demise; Uela Tata says it was old age, but I believe there is a little more dark magic to the true story." "Uela Tata" was what the family called Carlisle's mother; Abuela (meaning grandmother) Taltsisma was a half-Mexican, half-Italian sixty-nine year old woman living by herself on the countryside of Virginia. When I asked why she lived so far away, Alice could only shrug and supply a half-lidded suggestion. "Maybe because that's where my Uelo Jiamo died. She just never left." Virginia was kind of far from New York, but it was understandable if that's where her heart remained.

I nodded and took his half of the cake to his private office, where I knocked softly and stepped in when he called out for me to. Without knowing it, I licked my lips in anticipation and pushed forward. He was in a formal casual tee, with the Ralph Lauren logo over the breast of the shirt; the sleeves ended right before his biceps, making me almost drool. "Bella?" I was weirdly getting used to the way he said my name. "I was not expecting you today." His hands quickly concealed a small plate of an unknown substance, and he was swift to shove it in a desk drawer before looking back at me. What, he thought I was some sort of an idiot? "And what gift do you bring, darling?"

I wasn't his darling, and this gift wasn't from me. "Your mother sent it." I spoke through gritted teeth and tossed it onto his desk full of paperwork, not caring what importance they were. I didn't support nor tolerate the use of drugs or illegal narcotics. Alcohol was tipping the scale! It didn't take but a few seconds for me to spin on my heel and slam the door behind me. Emmett had a lot of money, but did that make him think he was allowed to snort that white powder? It was the devil, sin in the purest form! I went through the kitchens to the back of the restaurant, where some of us took our breaks and lunches when the restaurant was particularly busy. There was this deadly attraction to this dangerous man, and with all my might I wished it away. He was my best friend's brother, a man of drug abuse, and a potential alcoholic. Oh, and let's not forget, a Mafioso bully! After a few breathers, I turned around and made my back to the doors- but there leaning against the doorway was Emmett in his full glory, bronze skin tone glistening in the sunlight and those thick raven locks laying atop his big, fat head. "Move." I said quickly, hoping to be out of this situation with a quickness like never before.

"Where is this rudeness coming from? First slamming doors and now this? Where have your manners gone, Isabella?" It was now nauseating to hear him say my name. I didn't even spare him a look as I kept my eyes dialed straight ahead, that nasty stubborn look on my face. "The silent treatment? Seriously, you're going to give me the liberty of not hearing your trap yapping away? Then this new reign is very welcome." Through all his shit-talking, he still had not moved an inch. "No words? Not one?" Emmett tested me easily. My fists balled up in anger, but it was never in me to hit another in a blind act of benevolence.

"I am asking you politely to please move." I spat out testily. This game of cat and mouse was not fun for me, and every second that I spent staring at his face was a second wasted.

"Say that you forgive me? If you can forgive me for what you _unfortunately_ had to see, I will allow you to pass." His accent made the words heavy with emotion, but I understood that there was less than one dimension to his character. In my mind, I wanted Emmett to be deep and human-like, but in truth, he had to be both hollow & very much shallow.

"Forgive you for what, Emmett?" I snapped at him. "I am not the one you should seek forgiveness from." His rigid stance made it impossible for me to move past him, but there was a certain light to his eyes that made me want to stay right here with him. Luckily, Alice came bounding down the hallway and pushed her brother roughly with her wicked little grin.

"Why do you enjoy bothering Bella so much, Emmy? Come on, girl, let's get going." She yanked my arm and sent me flying after her without another word. I whipped my head around and wordlessly followed her from the back alley to the front parking lot, where the valet boys gave us their usual fake smiles as Alice threw her valet ticket out of the window and drove off at top speed. Even if she didn't notice the growing tension and friction happening between her brother and I, I just knew shit would hit the fan. Things always found a way to catch up with you.

**A/N: review, review, review.**


	7. We Will Never Be Afraid Again

The Saturday before my vacation was up came all too quickly, but I supposed that was not the case for the rest of the house. By late morning, Alice and her mother was gone running errands- I awoke to a scribbled note on my pillow and a gift wrapped box at the end of my bed. After a lengthy shower and the application of light makeup, I changed into acceptable clothing and jogged down the flight of stairs, right into the dining room. "… I do not give one less shit about what it takes. Push it. You know what, kid? If you feel that this position is not your style, the situation can be easily…" Mr. Montebello's commanding voice boomed throughout the house, but I ducked my head and tried to mold myself against the wall to listen. "Look, my attention is elsewhere at this moment, and I don't want to have this kind of conversation with you again. The next time I hear those words ever come out of your mouth again you're going to be looking up at the barrel, got it?" I froze at his words. The barrel of a gun? I began to assume that this employee was not employed at Montebello Cuisine, but of another _branch _of the Montebello's company. I bit down on my lip to suppress a gasp of fear as I heard his footsteps grow nearer.

Shit, he was going to come out of the dining room and see me here, anyway! Besides, I already knew too much and they hadn't killed me yet. I could just pretend I just walked down the stairs and hadn't caught a word of his conversation. And that's what I did- I tiptoed in reverse to the end of the staircase and made dramatic, heavy footsteps towards the ajar doors of the dining area. I kept a schooled expression on my face as I strolled through the room, waving at him as I sat down and began filling a porcelain plate with fried breakfast foods. He muttered a blunt farewell and tossed his private cell phone inside of his coat pocket. "Good morning." I said cheerfully.

"Good afternoon." Mr. Montebello corrected me with a small grin. "Esme and Alice were off very early this morning, and you missed Emmett by an hour." My eyes skirted around at the mention of his name; his face popped up in my head and for the life of me, I couldn't shake him from my thoughts. "He looks forward to seeing you tonight, Isabella, are you prepared for the event?" The event? Oh!

I smiled. "Of course, Alice refreshed me on etiquette courses and formal behaviors." Basically, I promised him that I would behave myself for the evening. He sat down in a chair across from me and sipped at a short, round glass of whiskey. Whiskey with breakfast? I suppose the rich did as they pleased, without the consent of health or continence.

"No, I didn't mean behavior or mealtime appearance. I meant, are you prepared for questions and the crowd? There will be many very important people attending, and some less important people that will make it their business to completely expose and exploit you." I swallowed the lump forming in my throat at his words.

"If you are referring to our… secret as _exploitation_, I can assure you- it is a secret that I will take to my very grave." I knew I was a sort of liability to this family and their company; Alice warned me about this upcoming wedding, where two well-connected Italian-Americans were coming together for both political gain and social advancement. The way she explained their marriage to me was so… impersonal and business-like, it wasn't marriage at all. It was a contract.

"Excellent." Carlisle beamed down at me, his thinning slicked back hairdo shining in the dining room light. "I am not sure if Alice has mentioned the issue of an escort to you, but I would like to elaborate on it." I shook my head to reassure him of his assumption. "Events, especially important ones like fellow socialite weddings, must be treated with extreme carefulness. The Montebellos are untouchable, but for the sake of my wife, we must keep up appearances at all times, and at any cost." I gulped. Where was he going with this speech? "Alice has accepted the hand of my dear college's son. She has known him for many years, but I can not say the same of you and any son of my colleagues'. That is why I paired you with Emmett; that way the both of you can spend more time with another, and hopefully this arrangement will be more comfortable for you. Is that true?" I nodded hesitantly, not wanting to upset the thin-line kind of man Carlisle was.

I suppose a complete stranger could have been worse than the man that I knew Emmett was. He was rough around the edges, a complete egomaniac, an had tendencies to act above the law- but at least I knew everything about him and couldn't fool myself into falling for his tricks. "Thank you , Mr. Montebello." I tried to convince myself that this proposition of his was for my benefit only and in no way was used to gain anything on his part. "I…" I was sort of at a loss of words; it felt weird and lonely without Alice, and I didn't like the way Mr. Montebello and I were talking like good friends. He was my boss, and this whole living here on _their _dime began to bother me like it bothered Alice. "I am going upstairs to get ready for this afternoon. Thank you again, I appreciate your thoughtfulness." I stood up and fixed the pattern of cloth on my sleeve.

Yes, how thoughtful he was to match me with an ignoramus like Emmett Cullenciano. "We will be departing at four o clock sharp, the civil service starts at 4:30." My heart sank right down into my lower belly- would Alice and Mama be leaving with us? I d=fidgeted and opened and closed my mouth to ask him. He seemed to know where I was going and smiled. "Alice and Esme will meet us at the service, their hair appointments are so very close to the beginning of the vow ceremonial." I nodded awkwardly and ran back upstairs to hide in the comfort of my own room- I locked the door and then set the corner of the three feet by three feet dresser against it; I knew it was foolish to be so mistrusting of the man that took me in and gave me a job at his company, but I was never comfortable with men. Especially when I was the only female around for hours.

To get my mind completely off of my paranoia and fear of men, I started on my makeup and let my thoughts drift into another direction. My mother called just a few days ago, and it wasn't just the fact that she would spend the out of state call rates, but it was the conversation that bugged me. She called to talk about a recipe of her mother's- Rene was the farthest thing from a cook, and so when my Grandma Irene died, I received all of her cookbooks and recipe lists. Rene never wanted to know about them before, why now? I expected her to finally reveal what she was really calling for, but we hung up after a drawn-out goodbye on her part and I hadn't heard from her since then. I applied soft pinks to my eyelids and kind of overdid it on my mascara and eyeliner… but the way Alice and her cousins make up made you feel like drag queens couldn't overdo it. I read her note quickly- _Hey, had to follow-up with my manicurist and have a hair appointment at 3:00 today. My brother sent over this dress last week, I've been meaning to give it you but I just forgot. It's beautiful, he obviously didn't pick it out, but I suggest you wear it! Love, Alice. _When Alice suggested something, you were never suppose to take it lightly.

I opened the familiar outlet box and there it was- it was the exact dress I had been fawning over for the last week and a half! It was a beautiful cascade of soft pink chiffon, just a little longer than a mid-thigh length dress with pleats going down the front and back of the skirt. I stripped down and slipped it on, angling myself in front of the mirror so that I could marvel at the way the backless dress looked with a thin, black belt of satin wrapped around my waist. The splicing design was expensive and tricky- my dad once commented on my spliced dresses, saying that they "look like someone took a razor to your dress and cut out shapes". This splice design cut so that there was still material on my shoulders and underarms, but the material stopped just below my shoulder blades. The thin, pink material that was stretched across the back of my shoulder blades had to be cotton, because it was not constricting or too tight like chiffon often was.

My cell phone chimed with a new text, but as soon as I went to read it, the phone rang and my finger accidentally pushed the "answer" button before I read Emmett's caller ID. Shit, now I was going to have to talk to him! I was _not _good on the phone. "Uh, hello?" I answered awkwardly.

"Hey, sweet bottom, how's your day?" His pet name for me made me want to barf.

"My day was _just _great, and don't ever call me that again!" I spoke threateningly into the phone.

"Babe, why do you sound so lovely over the phone? I should try calling you more often. I can definitely do good with all of these butterflies in my stomach, I get them every time I hear your voice." Even though his ridiculous words were idiotic and made little sense, they still made me blush like a fool (even though I was almost sure he didn't mean them). I was very fortunate that we were not face to face. "But on another note, will you be ready by three? I know you don't want me to work late today, but I had to come in."

I scoffed. "Emmett, I don't care if you work until midnight tonight!"

"Listen, I know your care for my welfare comes first in your head, but I've got to bust my ass to make the money to take care of our family. You think little Sorentino is going to be able to afford St. Mary's tuition fees and baby girl Gina's esthetician license all on her own?" Emmett replied with a teasing voice.

I had to laugh at his mediocre attempt at comedy- there would never be an universe where the two of us could get together. And if we ever, god forbid, did hook up, I didn't see us having children of any kind. "First of all, in the sick and twisted world where we're together, our children's names would not be Sorentino and Gina! Secondly, our children are _not _going to attend a private school, let alone a religious one, little boys get touched in those kind of facilities." There was far too much scandal and my own personal distress in religion-ran facilities. They worked on a different logic than the scientifically-driven schools. "And why is our daughter getting an esthetician license? What, you think I'd let our son work in the restaurant for the rest of his life?"

"What's wrong with working in the restaurant, huh? We make good money, it's a family business." Emmett immediately got defensive.

"Are you kidding me? My son will not work in the kind of crooked facility that runs Montebello cuisine. Over my dead body, Emmett!" I shot back at him.

"What, you want our son to carry on your father's legacy? I'd rather have my son in no business at all than that of a pig." I gasped at his use of slander against my father. My dad was a good man that believed in doing the right thing, even if it meant stepping on others to acquire his goals. "And our son will _not _have some white boy name like Brad or Connor. We have to give him a name with character, like Sorentino-" Emmett rallied persistently.

"Stop!" I said finally. "Stop it, we don't have a son, nor will we ever. This is stupid, so this conservation is not going to continue." I had to put a halt on that subject- our words turned into some present-tense/future-tense thing that I was not comfortable with. "And I'd like to say thank you for the dress. It's… lovely." I finally choked out. The kind of man Emmett was sometimes was confusing; one minute he was the serious killer on the right palm of his father's hand and the next moment he was this funny, charming, charismatic boy that only set out to make you laugh or smile.

You could hear his smile over the phone. "I will do anything to make you happy, Isabella." He said huskily through the phone. One hundred women around the globe could be caught with their panties dropped at his voice in a dead second, I swore to it.

"But it was a lot of money, and I was just curious how you knew that this dress was sort of on my own personal wish list." His throaty chuckle made me feel embarrassed about even asking.

"I was not aware of any wish list of yours, but if you send it over to my assistant, I am sure she will be more than willing to pick these things up for you. Remember how I said I would do anything to make you happy? Alice and I were shopping around when she pointed out a very elegant gown, and my father forewarned me about my responsibly to you this afternoon, so I picked it up for you. What is your concern?" The way Emmett made it sound, it was like I was the insensitive bitch that could take a gift for it was. No, I had to ruin it with meddlesome questions that made me sound ungrateful.

"No, I just… it did make me happy, thanks." I couldn't help but give in. It really wasn't all that bad that he picked it up for me, and the second time around thanking him for it wasn't so bad. It actually came kind of naturally.

"I will arrive a few minutes early, I just have to finish some paperwork here in the office." Emmett gave me a play-by-play, as if I were his awaiting wife or something.

"Alright." I replied casually, trying my hardest to over think this whole thing. Emmett was just being his silly self, cracking jokes and trying to get a laugh out of me me- that's all this was. He wasn't serious about us getting together or ever having the possibility of conceiving. We weren't compatible, we weren't ever going to get together, this was just ridiculous and completely outrageous! "Just don't keep me waiting." After a muttering under the breath on his part, we hung up and parted ways at that.

God damn, that man could get into my head! I smiled like a stupid schoolgirl at the thought of walking in that place with him; we were a beautiful duo (not a couple, definitely not a couple) and the more I thought about, the better of a mood I was in. Of course I was scared out of my mind at the thought of attending a rich Mafioso wedding with a bunch of people that I didn't even know. But now that I knew he was going to be right there with to create laughter and more smiles, I was somehow… content with the evening.

How the hell did Emmett, of all people, _really _know about this secret treasure of mine? I mean, I saved a picture of it from a catalog on my phone and might have shared it on Facebook once or twice… but he and I weren't friends on the networking site and my profile was private. I tried, for once in my life, to just accept the gift and use it for all of its advantages. Like… showing off my not-so-toned legs and off-white tan that was going on from the hemline of my dress to the top of my knee. Oh, well, I wasn't perfect! Within an hour, I found a pair of plain Jane black high heels and loaded a small clutch with all of the necessities- the most important articles of makeup, my birth control, and my cell phone. Those were three components of my life that I could not be seen without. A swift knock at my door sounded and I literarily jumped a few inches in the air. I wasn't sure what would have been a bigger nightmare- being all alone with Carlisle, whom was a nice and loving enough man, but was still a very dangerous to me, or crazy, obnoxious, cokehead Emmett, the gorgeous brother of my best friend. But with a deep breath of reassurance, I grabbed my clutch and opened the door.

"Oh." I said breathlessly. Of all people, I did not expect to see Jacob Black at my door. "Um, what are you doing here?" It wasn't supposed to sound rude, but I was really at a loss for polite civility when I just braced myself for doomsday.

"Wow, I wasn't expecting you to throw out the red carpet for me, but what's with the attitude?" I bit my lip against what I wanted to say in reply to that. What was with the wiffle haircut he was sporting around work like it was the next big thing? I smiled against the numerous remarks I wanted to make and rubbed my forehead.

"Look, I'm sorry- it's been a long, stressful day." I motioned around me, not because I thought he'd understand me, but just in frustration.

Jacob peeked at my slightly disheveled room and raised an eyebrow at me. I turned to look at what he saw. A dozen or so Ghirardelli chocolate wrappers, a system of stacked cash on my desk drawer (I was counting my savings earlier that morning), and two empty wine glasses on my nightstand. I opened my mouth to explain myself, but he shook his head with a mocking smirk. "Rough life." He rolled his eyes subtly. "Anyway, boss sent me here to drive you to his house in Manhattan. He said he doesn't trust a woman, especially with your hormonal imbalance, on the streets of New York City alone."

I huffed at his ignorant comment, but remembered that he was only the messenger so I couldn't put much blame on him. "Boss? Mr. Montebello is your boss, not Emmett." I wanted to clear that up for him. Emmett was no one's boss, he worked in his own department of the restaurant and we steered clear of him as he did us.

Jacob had a weird haircut, and I took too much time out of my day to study it- the cut was a zero on the bottom and a five on the top, meaning that everything but save for the small section of hair on the top of his head was shaved off. He stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged as he leaned against the frame of my door. "I don't live here like you do and work on the clock when I please. It's tough for me, I got this job on a stretched favor of my uncle's; when any one of the Montebellos say jump, I do it." I felt bad for him and his uneasiness to be so willing, but I couldn't really say much. I _was _living in the lap of luxury, with shopping sprees, easy money, and flexible hours. "Are you ready to leave?"

"And what of Mr. Montebello?" I asked immediately. I wasn't sure if I could take a very long car ride to Emmett's with just Alice's dad and Jacob in the car. And weren't there hired drivers to fill in the space of Jacob? He was not a licensed chauffer, he didn't know what it was like to drive Miss Daisy around!

"He's decided to meet Alice and Mrs. Montebello at… wherever they are." He shrugged once more. "Sorry you weren't invited, guess it was a private ordeal." I feigned a smile at his mockery of my feelings. Was it so odd that I felt just a little neglected on this outing? I mean, it was like I was the unwanted child that was sent to an aunt's house when the parents decided they wanted something different. "Anyway, let's get going." Jacob was no good at these sensitive matters, but it wasn't like I had much say. Without Alice's car or Mr. Montebello to order a car for me, I was literally stuck here on paradise in this mansion. So I nodded and followed him out to his car, which was surprisingly very clean inside and out. I made a small comment on the cleanliness and he smiled boyishly. "What, just because I'm a guy that means I can't keep a car clean? Wow, Bella the Sexist."

"Well, no, I didn't mean to be sexist, I just meant… that your personality-" I tried to clear it up.

"My personality leads you to believe that I am unsanitary and messy? Alrighty then." Jacob pretended to be offended, or perhaps he was serious?

I offered a civil smile. "Jacob, you know that's not what I meant."

"Then what _did _you mean?" He asked as we made a sharp left in his little economy car.

"Well…" He was looking at me impatiently, waiting for my mouth to work faster than my brain so that I could put myself in even more trouble than before. "I'm just used to the guys back home making real messes of themselves, and women like my mother and aunts cleaning up after them." Jacob looked over at me, as if he didn't know if that were the truth or just a lie to save my ass. But it was the truth, the guys in Washington were real assholes and machoism was a normal thing. The guys worked manual labor, had the better jobs, went out for beers with friends and most women cooked, cleaned, had children, and got paid less to do more than a man. It was a deciding factor when I left for college; I was tired of seeing the same old cycle of life happen on the outskirts of Seattle. "So, I'm sorry if I offended you in anyway."

"Ah, don't worry about it." He shrugged. "I just thought you were degrading me in some way." I almost scoffed at his drama queen way of thinking. "You know, you richies got it made and sometimes forget how to talk to friends when you're used to being surrounded by nothing but money."

Me, a "richy"? Yeah, in my dreams! "You've sorely mistaken me, Jacob, I'm not rich. I mean, my dad came from a wealthy family but he works in the police force and my mother is a homemaker. I'm literarily living on the Montebello's dime as a dear friend of…" I didn't want him knowing everything, or at least not all of the correct details. Jacob may have seemed nice right now, but who knew if he would blab to everyone tomorrow at work about my life? "I am an old friend of the Montebellos, Alice and I were always every close. I have… an important degree in food that qualifies me for work."

Jacob's eyes lit up. Did he have any brain whatsoever? Who really would accept and believe someone's story when they mentioned "I have a very important degree in food"? "And all along I thought you sponged a job off of baby girl Alice! Well, I definitely see you in a different light now." He sent me a bright smile. "But if you're so qualified, why are you still a waitress? And why Montebello Cuisine?"

Why did the bonehead have so many questions? "Well, you have to start somewhere, right? And I love the Montebellos, they're practically… _family_." I choked out the last word. I promised to stop right there before I made the story too elaborate. I wasn't sure why I said we were "old friends" when I barely met them a few months ago. Why did I make up a degree when I could have just admitted that I was given this job because of the people I knew, not the kind of experience I needed? I think it was all due to the fact that I didn't want to be seen in his eyes as a "richy".


	8. Like Double Cherry Pie

**A/N:**

**hopefully this is what you have been waiting for.**

Jacob and I rode in silence all the way to the highway en route to Emmett's house in Manhattan. My quiet chewing of gum bothered him to such a degree that he decided to turn on the stereo full blast, but there was very little I could do in the back seat. By the time we crossed the connecting I-5, I wanted to take my high heel off and throw it at his bobbing head. In the meantime, I pulled out my half-charged cell phone and began shooting texts out. I replied to my mother's lovey dovey "good morning" message, sent a long paragraph to Alice about how big of a jerk Jacob was, and then a short, rude message to Emmett. _'You ass! Why did you send Jake to pick me up instead of just getting off your lazy butt?'_ I felt Jake's eyes on mine and I looked up to catch him warily surveying me through the rearview mirror. "Who are you talking to there, Bella?"

I shrugged, trying to stay casual, even if he was making me very uneasy. It was like I was watching him watch me. "My mom. She sent me this really long message this morning that I never got around to replying to." What was it any of his business, anyway? "Do you still keep in touch with your mom?"

"No, not really." His black eyes wandered back onto the road and I saw his fingers slowly feel their way to the "lock/unlock" button. Against my sane mind, I held the very tip of the lock indicator right below the window sill as he pressed the lock switch twice. When I sought his eyes through the mirror, he smiled reassuringly. "Wouldn't want to get mugged in standstill traffic, right?"

I nodded slowly and feigned a relieved smile for him, content that I held the lock up when I did. These were probably childproof locks and windows back here, anyway. A small vibration in my hands brought my attention down. _From Emmett: 'Jacob Black was never sent to retrieve you. I am headed to Staten Island right now. Where are you?'_

I gulped but faked another smile; I knew he was still observing me. "Geez, do moms ever stop worrying about their kids? Mine is a real worry wart." I rolled my eyes and quickly sent a message for some answers. '_In his car, stuck in Manhattan traffic, he locked the doors but mine is still open.' _I kept the message short but informative and deleted our conversation immediately. I wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but I felt it wasn't going to end happily. "Why aren't you and your mom close?" I would do anything to make him believe that I was blissfully ignorant to the suspicious behavior going on.

No one else had texted back as of yet. I needed a lot more time. "Once I left the tribe on La Push reservation, I decided to stop all communication. Came to New York, tried to make a life out of nothing, now I work as a little Indian boy pretending to be half Italian, half Mexican." Jake chuckled a little at that, but it was nothing to laugh about to me. It was a sad story, even to my own ears, and I suddenly felt guilty for his great misfortune and my overly-great luck with this city. "You know, only the lazy get what they want for practically free." I nodded, as if to agree wholly, but I didn't. It was like he was trying to make some sort of jab at me for living with the owners of the restaurant I worked at or perhaps being best friends with the owner's daughter, I wasn't too sure yet.

Lazy people got nothing out of life. "Then again, I think we all pay a price for what we've got." I supplied. "I mean, nothing is ever _really_ free, is it?" _From Emmett: 'I've just reached my father, Jacob Black was fired last night. At the next intersection or stoplight you reach, throw your door open and run. I'll find you.'_ My stomach completely dropped at the task ahead of me; the next stoplight was only two blocks afore us. Run, really? I sucked at jogging, running, hell- _walking_ was an event sometimes. Quietly, I slipped off my high heels and prepared myself for the rush I was going to make.

I silently recited "Our Father", a catholic prayer that my father taught me to use in my darkest moments, and it did somewhat calm my frazzled nerves long enough for me to create a coherent thought. I had never believed the high that adrenaline junkies so feined, I though it was a placebo effect and all in their minds… but that all changed when the car stopped at the red light, and I threw my door open to escape the clutches he had on me. My feet ran to their own accord, and I wasn't sure how, but I dodged oncoming traffic as I ran my fat ass along the strange streets of Brooklyn-Manhattan. Every street sign looked new to me and though people looked at me oddly, no one actually stopped to ask if I was okay or not.

The juice pumping through my veins gave me some sort of superhuman strength as I pushed past oncoming body traffic and my short legs carried me down endless streets. As my surrounding got more suburban and less busy, I truly began to feel totally lost. I only stopped for a second to look around before I continued, not caring to glance behind me for one minute. But as I rounded a corner, two hands shot out and grabbed me swiftly, slamming my body against a cold wall. It was as if my eyes were closed the entire time, because now that I think about it, I cant recall the person or time of day. Was I in an alley or on a street corner? The scenery behind the body and the face of the stranger was totally lost on me, but I could still remember the metal stab into my neck- everything was dark and cold and silent after that. Whether it was a needle or a knife, I could only recall that it hurt like a son of a bitch.

_Undisclosed Location-_

"Bella!" I could hear Alice's voice, but everything was so foggy and far out to me, it all seemed so unreal that I didn't trust myself enough to believe that she was really, _actually _there. A bright shine of light flashed before many different sounds happened- some were dim footsteps, others were loud bangs, and even a few peculiar shuffles. Then was an onslaught of different voices sounded. "Hurry, she's breathing! Come get her!" Ali's voice was panicked, and she wasn't a girl that let herself be scared so easily. A pair of tender hands caressed my face and a stern set of lips planted a tiny, chaste kiss on my mouth. I reached for the hands and held them in my own before fully cracking my brown eyes all the way open. I knew those hands and lips as though we had been lovers for the last eternity; Emmett stood over me, in slacks and a dress shirt, looking the full package savior that I thought him up to be while we were texting. Was this _really _him, though? The drugs that I assumed induced my sleep played many, _many _tricks on me as I fought the on again/off again awareness for what seemed like the last two days. My fingertips felt the ridges and jagged scars of his fingers and skin, and it was the most glorifying feeling in the whole entire world.

"You're here." I choked out, feeling tears immediately pour down my cold, almost numb cheeks. "Oh my god, you're here!" I wailed so loudly, I was sure I was going to wake the neighbors if there were any to begin with. Where was I exactly? I looked around in only mild curiosity- the walls were cold and damp, befitting a meat warehouse or something, not a house or a basement. But it honestly didn't matter, I didn't plan on staying long enough to find out. I could taste the saltiness of my tears mixing with the disgusting snot running from my nose on the tip of my lips, whilst my bottom lip wobbled uncontrollably. The room I was thrown in was still so dark, though a small ray of light infiltrated through the open door, and the floor my rigid back had been laying on was freezing. I hadn't taken a sip of water or a bite to eat since so long ago, it felt, but seeing these two familiar Montebellos felt like the only breath of fresh air that I needed.

I felt suddenly nourished and replenished back to health for the first time in so long- sure, my traumatic experience could possibly pale in comparison to other more extreme cases, but I was all so new to this way of dangerous living. Emmett's arms felt rigid against my body, but it didn't stop me from grabbing them and pulling him against me for one of the first hugs I truly gave with all of my love. Later, I would surely realize that the "love" I thought I felt at such a moment was just a mixture of delirium and a false sense of security- all as a result of Emmett's alleged act of "heroism" and the comforting feeling of familiarity I had with him. But in such a moment, when the new dose of adrenaline is coursing and relief implodes within your body, you don't consider all of that technical science bullshit… all there's left to do is kiss him.

And kiss him, I did. I heard a sound of quiet surprise sound from his lips, along with a far-off clearing of the throat, but I repositioned my mouth and went for another anyway. "I knew you'd find me." I said lowly when we finally pulled away from another. I swallowed the painful lump in my raspy throat when he sought my hand and squeezed it gently. Without even consulting a mirror, I knew I looked a mess; my hair felt ratted and tangled, my makeup was long ago washd off by my tears and the dripping ceiling, there was mud nad dirt caked on my exposed arms and legs, and to menton the fact that my very expensive dress was tattered and ruined… but he still decided to kiss me.

"Look at me, Bella." Emmett brought my hand to his lips and planted a wet kiss there. "I will _always _find you, wherever you are. I told you that." While that felt like a godsend at this current moment, it later turned into a curse; but that was a different story to tell at a different time. Em was right- he could find me wherever I was, he always would.

"Let's get going, Emmett, the car's waiting." Alice interjected pointedly. He quickly helped me get to my feet, but I was just too sore all over. I was still dressed in my canary yellow dress for the wedding; it was torn and ripped in all sorts of directions. "I missed you so much, Bella." My best friend sent me a watery smile as she gathered one of my arms to assist me in my departure out of the hellhole. She wore a pair of tight jeans, one of her infamous wife beaters, and her old leather jacket; Alice made busting her best friend out of imprisonment look stylish! But it was her right hand that made me breathless- it was a heavy piece of shiny metal that glistened and shined when it caught the sunlight. We walked through the back entrance of the ill-kept warehouse of sorts as though we owned the place. For a second, I considered begging my party to speed it up, but I doubted I could have traveled any faster than my rough limp was going.

"Alice." I said shakily. "Ali… what's that in your hand?" I tried my hardest to control the quiver in my already faltering voice. She never once mentioned the fact that she knew how to hold a gun, let alone _use _it, in all of the years we were friends and roommates and basically sisters! Ali looked so calm and casual walking with it in her public possession of it, until I blatantly pointed the fact out, so much so that it scared me!

"Get rid of it." Emmett hissed in what sounded like irritation (though I had never really heard him speak to her out of turn in and out of the restaurant) to his younger sister. She nodded mutely and left me to lifelessly lean against her sibling for support; I watched in devilish curiosity as Alice sprinted towards the open docks and positioned herself to forcefully throw the gun in the middle of the bay. Was this quick thinking on her part, or had she done this a time, or two, before? All of these new, crowding thoughts had me lost in wonder and semi-amazement. So when we loaded in an awaiting white Crown Vic, I barely understood what was happening as we drove home.

The last thought on my mind was of the brother-sister duo that came to my rescue when I needed them the most- I would forever feel indebted to them, I loved them with all of my heart.

**A/N:**

_**Mafia style**_**.**

**Seems Bella is getting a dose of what the real lifestyle is all about.**

**It's not all nice and shiny with hundred dollar tips after dinner, is it?**


End file.
